


Harry Potter and the Firestarter

by ReverseRaven



Series: Slyther: I don't Want to Be Mediocre so I got Sorted into Slytherin [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Draco Malfoy Bashing, Draco Malfoy Being an Idiot, Gen, Girl-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Gray Harry Potter, Harry Potter Has a Twin, Harry's Twin Is not a Git, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, No Romance, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Politics, Smart Harry Potter, They are children you knobs, cosmic horror, more tags as I think of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 53,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23548654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverseRaven/pseuds/ReverseRaven
Summary: Harry Potter's life had been hell. He'd spent ten agonizing years slaving away for his only living relatives, only managing to escape through the surprising hospitality of a strange book store owner. On his eleventh birthday, he discovers things about himself he'd thought were only fantasies, but the greatest revelation was that he had a younger sister who'd somehow saved the world.Inspired by Sarcasm and Slytherin.
Series: Slyther: I don't Want to Be Mediocre so I got Sorted into Slytherin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717483
Comments: 155
Kudos: 748





	1. Yer a Wizard, Harry

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Harry Potter and the Den of Snakes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12608820) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> IMPORTANT: Sarcasm and Slytherin, the story that inspired this series, has returned. You can find Part 2 of Book 5 Secrets of Vipers written by the original author here under a different pen name: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721513/chapters/59756794
> 
> Sorry I only signal boosted this now. I did it in the sequel, but obviously more people would see this, which I didn't think of at the time.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am absolutely not charging anyone anything for reading this fic. JK Rowling is the master of this universe.
> 
> The characters of Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Daphne Greengrass are heavily inspired by Sunmoonandstars' take on those characters in her incredible series Sarcasm and Slytherin. In truth, I wrote this mostly because I was dismayed to find out the work had been orphaned. This is my attempt both to find closure and to write so poorly that Sunmoonandstars decides to return to us and show me how to write a real Slytherin Harry fic.

_July 30, 1991_

The bell rang, heralding Harry's arrival in Carter's Bookstore - a familiar sound, given how often he came here: More often than the Dursleys would've liked, and not as much as he wished. Which was to say he came here any time Dudley asked Vernon and Petunia if he could 'take Harry out to play.' He'd gotten pretty good at evading Dudley's Gang over the years.

The floor and walls of varnished wood gave the shop a small-town feel that Harry rather liked. Yellow bulbs lit the interior, ranging from warm to eerie depending on the time of day.

The first time he'd come here was to hide from his pig of a cousin and his mates. The owner, Carter, whose first name Harry had never caught, frightened the living daylights out of his cousin. Harry'd decided right then he liked old man Carter.

Mister Carter sat behind the counter, greeting Harry with the ghost of a smile. Harry gave him a grateful nod, hiding how bad he felt about the man's hospitality. He'd lied and said the Dursleys lived in squalor. Carter had taken one look at Harry's hand-me-downs from Dudley, nodded, and stayed quiet when Harry browsed the shelves. If he noticed how Harry had a new bruise every visit, he never said anything.

The store saw little traffic, either because it was out of the way, or because it sold older articles than what people were generally interested in. Carter had books and magazines from half a century back, and almost seemed to take pride in carrying none of the newer ones. Harry was grateful Carter tolerated him reading his merchandise, and took care not to damage the age-worn items.

Today he picked an issue of Weird Tales Magazine from the stall that had the picture of a half-man, half-horse on the cover. He enjoyed fantasy and science fiction immensely since they helped him cope with his weirdness.

The Dursleys called it his _freakishness_. Things would happen around him that no one could explain, like turning his teacher's hair blue, or the time he'd somehow found himself on the school kitchen's roof while running away from Dudley's gang.

Or the time when he'd talked to a snake at the local zoo and somehow set it loose on Dudley and Piers Polkiss. That had been fun until Vernon tried to 'beat the devil out of him' when they got home.

Fiction made him feel special rather than some kind of wretched mutant. Fiction helped him escape his solitary, dreary existence in Number 4 Privet Drive, although at the end of the day, he knew these were the dreams of a little boy who only wished he was more than he was.

_A shame you never get to take any of it with you,_ his inner voice thought as he leafed through the magazine's pages. His eyes stopped tracking the text he'd been reading. His lips curled into a frown.

"What is it, Harry?" Carter's voice asked, sounding distant.

Harry nearly jumped. Carter usually preferred companionable silence. He schooled his features, and turned to the gaunt-faced, balding man behind the counter. "I was just wishing I could buy this."

Usually, Carter would nod and go back to not minding him, but today, he seemed to contemplate. Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"Say," Carter spoke. "Isn't it your birthday?"

Harry blinked. He'd nearly forgotten. It wasn't like the Dursleys ever threw him any parties. _They won't even feed you right,_ his inner voice reminded him.

"You're right." He paused. "Kind of. Technically I have a few hours left." He looked at the clock on the wall. Five in the afternoon. He frowned once more. He needed to get back. Petunia expected him to make dinner.

Carter studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Take that with you, then."

His mouth fell half-open, not sure he'd heard right. "I don't have-"

"As my gift to you," Carter said. He smiled thinly. "Happy Birthday, Harry." It didn't look good on him, but Harry didn't care.

A grin threatened to split his face. "You mean it? Thank you!"

Carter inclined his head. "I expect you'll be heading home?"

_Home,_ Harry thought. No, the Dursley's house was never going to be his home. He had no family there, no friends. They treated him like an indentured servant. 

Carter didn't deserve to get his mood ruined by Harry's drama, so instead he put on a smile he didn't feel. "Yes, I guess I should. Thanks again, Mr. Carter!"

He tucked the magazine under his shirt and made for Number 4 Privet Drive. It felt warm against his skin.

* * *

Harry's face felt warm against his hand. He'd been so happy about Carter's gift that he'd missed Piers Polkiss' fist coming at him from around the corner. The blow nearly floored Harry's smaller, malnourished frame. Dudley was right behind Piers, laughing.

He had a feeling it'd leave a bad bruise. Harry didn't say a word, simply getting back up and walking past Dudley's gang while they cackled at his expense. _Halfway to being able to move out of the house,_ he thought. He just needed to stay alive for another seven years.

Aunt Petunia fixed him with a disgusted look when she saw his face. "What kind of trouble did you get in now?" she asked. 

Harry knew it didn't matter what he said. He'd tried before. It never ended well. "I tripped and fell."

He watched himself in the mirror, seeing his face had swollen where the fist made contact. It made him look even uglier than usual, with the strangely-shaped scar on his head from when his parents had died in an accident. He wished the scar had looked cool, at least. It looked a bit like the symbol for the men's room - a circular head over an elongated body. Dudley had called him 'Harry Potty' for a while until he got bored with the nickname.

His aunt turned her nose up at him, and the evening progressed as it usually did. He prepared dinner while his Aunt and Uncle and Dudley went on about something beneath his notice.

_Seven more years,_ he thought, as he cooked dinner with a practiced manner and little conscious thought. The years of doing chores had taught him how to withdraw into the recesses of his mind, his body performing the tasks almost of its own volition.

He thought of the copy of Weird Tales, still tucked under his shirt, and a thin smile appeared on his face. He hadn't been able to sneak it into his cupboard yet, but the feeling of receiving a gift for his birthday was alien to him, stranger than any of the cosmic horrors he'd read of in Carter's books and magazines.

At ten in the evening, Harry slinked back into his cupboard, rolled up his shirt, and blinked as something small fell to the ground with a clink. He grabbed the flashlight he'd _borrowed_ without the Dursleys' notice, and searched. An elegant silver key shone in the dim light, small enough to fit in his hand. Not a normal key like what the Dursleys used to lock his cupboard sometimes, but an ornate, older-looking specimen. It looked right out of a fantasy novel.

"Where?" he asked no one in particular. He frowned. Had it belonged to Mr. Carter? He hoped he hadn't accidentally caused trouble for the old man, but a magazine was a weird place to put a key.

"I'll just have to return it next time I'm out," he told himself, tucking the key into his pocket. He knew he'd have to wake early to make breakfast, but it was his birthday. Surely, he could stay up a little bit. He plopped down onto the mattress and read his magazine until his eyes strained from the dim light.

His digital watch read five til twelve, and as he did every year, Harry waited for the time to tick down.

Four minutes.

Three.

Two.

One.

As his watched beeped that it was midnight, he wished himself a happy birthday, took one last look at his new old magazine, and closed his eyes.

Someone banged on the front door with surprising force.

Harry frowned and sat up. He saw sleep wasn't coming, not if whoever was suddenly banging on the front door at midnight had anything to say about it. He groaned. He was up late enough as things were.

He escaped the cupboard to look through the front peephole. He flinched at the size of the man on the other side. Harry backed away from the door, wary of the giant stranger.

His legs scrambled towards the phone. He needed to call the cops. There was a sound, like metal sliding on metal, and the front door opened with surprising gentleness.

Harry's eyes widened as the giant figure ducked under the door just to step through. The man was bigger than Uncle Vernon, which said a lot. Unlike Uncle Vernon, the stranger wore a pleasant look on his face.

"That you Harry?" the man asked.

"How do you-"

Uncle Vernon's voice came from the stairs. He was wearing his usual ugly pajamas, a furious look on his face. "How dare you!"

Not ten minutes later, Harry was in shock. He thanked himself for having the sense to sit down when Hagrid had used what was clearly magic to subdue the Dursleys. Hagrid had told him the truth of who he was, and why Hagrid had come tonight.

His parents had been murdered by a Dark Lord, not unlike Emperor Palpatine or Sauron. They'd not been in an accident, like the Dursleys had told him all his life. Also, he was apparently a wizard.

"Yer a wizard, Harry," Hagrid had told him, verbatim. Harry had stared, wide-eyed, remembering his _freakishness._

He'd lived in squalor, but (if he believed Hagrid) he was actually heir to an ancient and noble house with a considerable bank vault. 

_Bank vaults,_ he corrected himself. Hagrid had said plural.

The thing he found himself doubting most among Hagrid's revelations seemed laughably mundane in comparison.

"I have a sister?" Harry asked. It wasn't the first time. He'd been repeating the question on loop for the past minute.

Family. He had family. He shot a quick look at the Dursleys, saw their glowering faces, and glared right back. He had a real relative.

"Yep," Hagrid said, like he had every time Harry asked the question. "'Er name's Willow. She's 'bout a few minutes younger than you."

Willow. A younger sister. He was a brother! An older brother! He couldn't help the grin on his face.

_Why wasn't she here with you?_ his inner voice asked, but Harry forced it back. He had a family. He could figure out the why's later.

What's more, his sister had been a hero. The same night the Dark Lord had come to their home, his spell had backfired, leaving him and Willow with their scars.

Fearing the Dark Lord's followers seeking retribution, the Light Side's leader, a man named Albus Dumbledore, had split them up, giving Willow to a wizarding family for protection and him to their only living relatives.

_So you're an unwanted spare,_ his inner voice whispered. 

Feelings warred within Harry, but eventually, the good won over the bad.

"When can we leave?" he asked.


	2. Diagonally

Any disbelief Harry had left disappeared on the flight to Diagon Alley. Hagrid had taken Harry in a bloody flying motorbike and flown him through the night sky. He looked pale the whole trip. Ever since the incident with the kitchen roof, he'd had a mild aversion to heights. 

He was happy when they finally landed on good old terra firma.

Hagrid tapped a particular brick on the wall with his umbrella. There was a pause before the wall receded to show a bustling street filled with people of all shapes and sizes. They walked to and fro, holding bags filled with various items.

Harry would've been worried if Hagrid hadn't already told him about his family's vaults.

A quick trip to Gringott's bank later, during which Harry made sure he was polite to all the goblins, he had a magical bag linked to one of the vaults the Potters had set up when he and Willow had been born.

He reached his hand in, thought of two Galleons, and watched as his hand came back out with the amount. He thought _deposit,_ stuck the money back in, and it disappeared. Instant.

The goblin, Griphook, told him only he could make the bag take money in or out. Harry beamed. It was still his birthday.

"Firs' we'll be needin' to get yer a wand," Hagrid said, leading him gently through the crowd. It wasn't difficult, as Hagrid's prodigious size made people naturally inclined to let them pass.

"Won't my sister be joining us?" Harry asked.

Hagrid gave him a gentle smile. "Willow's already got her things set. Madam Bones is usually busy, so she insisted yer sister get her supplies early. 'Sides, she didn't have mean step parents blockin' her letters."

Harry nodded. He'd winced when Hagrid told him Hogwarts had been trying to send him letters for days. He blamed his tendency to zone out when he did chores. He'd never gotten a letter before, so he never bothered to read the envelopes.

His sister had been living with the Bones, a wizarding family who'd worked with the Potters during the War.

_Why'd they leave you with the Dursleys, then?_ his inner voice questioned. Harry's excitement diminished. That was a question he didn't know the answer to.

Hagrid led him inside a rather small shop with a sign that read 'Ollivander's'. It had paneled glass windows and was crewed by a single man behind a desk. He reminded Harry a little bit of Carter. The thought worsened his mood a bit. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye, let alone give the key back. He'd looped a piece of string through it and started wearing it around his shirt like a necklace.

The bustling sounds of Diagon Alley diminished as soon as they closed the door behind them. Harry wondered if the store had been soundproofed somehow. Stacks of what looked like shoe boxes lined the shelves. He guessed they each contained individual wands. The man he presumed to be Ollivander regarded him with searching eyes behind his spectacles.

"'Ello there, Mister Ollivander," Hagrid said amicably. "We were 'opin' to get get a wand for young Harry here."

Ollivander gave Hagrid the slightest of nods. "Good to see you again, Mr. Hagrid. A pity about your wand."

Harry noticed Hagrid's hands tighten around his umbrella, but he said nothing. The man called Ollivander's eyes were now on him.

"And who might you be?" Ollivander asked.

Harry felt himself swallow before answering. "Harry, sir. Harry Potter."

The spectacled eyes widened ever so slightly. "I see. Wait one moment."

Ollivander disappeared into the back. Harry frowned. He had no idea how wands worked. Was he supposed to just choose? He didn't know a thing.

The wait was brief. Ollivander came back with a stack of boxes following him, levitating themselves onto the counter. "The wand chooses its bearer," he finally explained. "It is possible to use any wand, but you can never reach your potential with a wand that does not choose you."

The first box opened up. "Alder, thirteen and a half inches, dragon heartstring core. Try."

Harry placed a hand on the wand, not entirely sure what to do. He waved it like he'd seen Hagrid do with the umbrella. A faint spark came out. He felt himself grin. Magic! He was doing magic!

"No," Ollivander said, to his confusion. He did as told, returning the wand to its box. "Dragon Heartstring should have made a greater display." Another box replaced the first.

"Vinewood, Unicorn Hair Core. Try."

Harry tried it again. 

And again.

And again.

He'd gotten through fifteen boxes, all of which Ollivander had said "no" to. But instead of disappointment, the old man's face looked excited. 

_He probably loves finding the right wand for the right person,_ Harry thought.

He hadn't understood at first, but by his tenth wand he'd started to get a sense for his attunement to them. He'd started evaluating silently along with the wandmaker.

"Curious," Ollivander said as they approached the twentieth wand. "Most curious."

That piqued Harry's interest. "I take it people don't normally take this long?"

Ollivander nodded. "You've tried roughly half of every combination of wood and core I've made. There are only three cores I commonly use."

Harry nodded. He had noticed that. Unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, phoenix tailfeather. If he was only rotating three cores, maybe the problem wasn't the wood. He frowned. "Does that mean you don't have a wand I can use?"

Ollivander studied him carefully, clearly debating with himself on the inside. "I dedicated my study of wandmaking to finding which cores were superior. The three I settled on produce far better, more consistent results than the others my ancestors used."

_Great. We can't even get a wand,_ his inner voice said.

Seemingly picking up on it - which Harry hoped wasn't true - Ollivander spoke again. "I have not made a wand with other cores since that discovery. However, that isn't to say I do not have any on hand."

Ollivander disappeared into the back room once more before coming back with one more box. The wood on it looked old, somehow. "Eleven inches, maple wood, Kelpie Hair core. A wand older than myself, made by my father."

The gravity of the statement made him pause, but something drove his hand forward. He felt a surge - a connection. His fingers gripped the wand, and almost as if the wand was dragging his hand with it, he traced a new pattern through the air. Water flowed out of the tip of his wand like a drinking fountain.

His eyes widened in panic. The other wands! He'd get them wet! Fortunately, Ollivander seemed to have anticipated this, and the stream of flowing water gathered in a ball. With another wave of his wand, and a mutter of " _Evanesco_ ," the water vanished.

"Curious," Ollivander said again. "I must caution you. Maple is a wand of achievers, Mr. Potter. It is a wand that seeks new challenges - a wand that will weaken should you ever stop improving yourself."

Harry eyed the wood in his hand and nodded. "I was planning to do well in school, anyway. I'd be an idiot to mess this chance up. What can you tell me about the core, sir?"

Ollivander regarded him with a thin smile. "That's what makes it curious, Mr. Potter. Kelpie Hair is a substandard core. It is why I've ceased to use it. I suppose, as you saw, it has a certain affinity for water, but in general the spells it weaves lack the consistency of the cores I've termed 'superior.'"

Harry saw the contradiction: Wand wood that wanted him to excel, a core that would hold him back. Supposedly. He hadn't felt the same connection with any of the others, so he guessed it was still better than a wand that hadn't picked him.

"Thank ye, Mister Ollivander, sir," Hagrid piped up from the side. The half-giant had watched all of it with patient interest.

"Oh yes," Ollivander said. "I nearly forgot. That'll be Seven Galleons."

Harry reached into his money bag, happy to pay that much for the ability to do magic.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. I will be keeping an ear to the ground for how you and that wand perform."

Harry smiled back. He wanted to know that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 1: The Money Bag idea is borrowed from Sarcasm and Slytherin, although my friend tells me it's popular fanon. Can't confirm. Don't read as much as I should.
> 
> AN 2: I am aware my dialogue for Hagrid is inconsistent. I apologize, but trying to write it out gave me the beginnings of a headache. I was tempted to just summarize it as "(Speaks in Hagrid)"
> 
> AN 3: Wand lore based on JK's writings on Wizarding World, except for the Kelpie Hair bit which was only stated to be 'inferior.' The whole water-alignment thing was something I made up.


	3. Shopping, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post just 2 chapters today, but the surprising amount of support has spurred me on to finish editing chapter 3. Thank you all. As usual, end-of-chapter notes discuss the ideas presented in the chapter for anyone interested.

Almost as soon as they'd headed out, Hagrid turned to him. "Congratulations on yer wand, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry said, remembering the piece of wood he was still clutching in his hand. He knew he'd get tired of holding it eventually, but it'd never fit into the pockets of the rags he wore. He didn't want the filth of his life with the Dursleys touching it, either.

Speaking of which.

He'd noticed the odd stares people had been giving him when they thought he wasn't looking. He couldn't help coming into Diagon Alley with Dudley's hand-me-downs, but that didn't mean he'd leave looking like this.

"Where can I get a fresh set of clothes?" he asked, eyeing the elegant robes he saw people walking around in. They seemed a bit impractical for everyday use, but he'd take them over the clothes on his back. 

"Righ' there." Hagrid pointed at a shop with a display of moving mannequins modeling fine clothing. "Ye'll be needin' ter get yer school robes anyway."

"Great. Let's go." He moved, but noticed Hagrid loitering behind with an embarrassed look on his face. Harry frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Er, ye can go ahead," Hagrid said. "I can't fit."

Harry looked between the door and Hagrid's large frame. He wondered how Hagrid had gotten inside Ollivander's, but he supposed the answer was _magic._

"So you're just gonna wait out here, then?"

"Nah, I got a few errands ter run fer Dumbledore." He pointed at a shop with a sign that read 'Flourish and Blotts.' "Ye can get yer books there. I'll meetcha after ter get the rest of yer school supplies sorted out."

Harry nodded, double checking if his letter with the list of supplies he'd need for first year was still in his pocket.

He walked into Madam Malkin's shop, a bell ringing to announce his entrance. He stopped, reminded of the Bookstore and the silver key he hadn't been able to return. He'd have to ask later how to send mail to a muggle.

The walls were painted in a pattern of stars against a green sky. Harry was no connoisseur, but even he thought it looked a tad garish, especially in a clothing shop.

A squat woman in mauve attire smiled warmly at him. "Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here -- some of your yearmates being fitted up right now, in fact."

The students in question glanced at the new arrival.

Harry returned her smile, glad she didn't look over his ragged wear too much. He reasoned she probably saw her fair share of wizards who'd been raised by muggles. _Raised,_ he thought bitterly. Right. Like that was a good way to put his time with the Dursleys.

He focused his attention on the three other kids in the shop. Two boys were standing on stools, being fitted by two ladies for their robes. They were both built tall and lanky, though one boy had pale skin and brown hair. The other, tanned with cropped black hair. The last student was a girl sitting on a provided sofa, blond, shoulder-length hair visible even as she buried her face in a book with studied disinterest.

Harry stepped onto the stool with some trepidation. It was silly after flying around on Hagrid's motorcycle, but there it was.

"First year?" the boy beside him, the one with a pale complexion and brown hair asked.

Despite himself, Harry grinned. He'd never had much chance to talk to kids his age thanks to Dudley. "Yeah."

Harry studied the boy, who in turn, seemed to study him. It was subtle, but years of listening for footsteps and trying to read the Dursleys' moods had given him a knack for observation.

"My name's Theo," the boy said. He seemed to wait a moment as if expecting some reaction, but continued upon not seeing one. "Theo, Heir of House Nott."

"Theodore," the boy to Theo's right said with some amusement.

Theo shot the other boy a look. "Unless they're gits like Blaise over here."

The boy called Blaise choked back a laugh before turning to Harry. "Blaise, Heir of House Zabini, at your service."

Harry blinked at that. Houses Nott and Zabini? He didn't know the names, of course, but he guessed they were noble houses like the Potters. 

"Uh, in that case," he said. "Harry, Heir of House Potter. I think. Unless my sister gets preferential treatment. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He hoped that was close enough to the proper address. His only experience had been a few fantasy novels.

He thought his companions flinched, but if they had, they recovered with practiced ease.

"Harry Potter?" Theo repeated, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard right. "Forgive my rudeness, but aren't you supposed to be dead?"

Harry noticed then that the ladies checking Theo and Blaise's cloaks were doing their best to look uninterested in the conversation. It seemed Hagrid had forgotten to tell him a few things. "Well, unless you think I'm a ghost, no."

"He isn't pale enough to be a ghost," Blaise mused.

"I don't know, Blaise, he could be an inferius," Theo added.

Harry repressed a frown. He had no idea what that was, but he didn't want to ruin their impression of him any more.

"Or a zombie," Blaise offered. He seemed to have caught Harry's confusion and thrown him a bone. "Although we usually don't get those in Britain."

Ah. Now Harry understood. "Nope. Been alive the whole time. I had to live with my mother's non-magical relatives in secret." The thought threatened to darken his mood, but he forced it down.

"My condolences," Theo said. 

"And mine," Blaise added.

Harry wasn't sure if it was for his parents or his time with the Dursleys, but he could only nod. "Thanks. Have you gotten your books?"

"Nope," Theo answered, the p sound popping loudly. He smirked. "Why? Do you want help?"

 _Yes,_ Harry thought, but instead he said, "I just thought it'd be more interesting to do it together. I've always liked books."

 _And never had the money to buy them,_ his inner voice added.

He watched the appraising looks of his two new companions. They seemed surprised someone raised by muggles could play their game.

"I'm up for it," Theo said.

"Same," Blaise said. "Now we just need to ask our Ice Princess, who's been doing really well at pretending not to listen."

The two attendants flinched, but Harry's eyes went to the blond girl with the book in her hands. He'd been wondering if the three of them knew each other. Confirmation was nice.

The girl lowered her book by two inches to peer at him with icy blue eyes. "I don't mind," she said, before lifting the book back up. The cover was plain leather, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if that was deliberate.

"It's settled, then," Theo spoke. Harry noticed none of them were willing to introduce her, but he supposed that was fair. For all he knew, she might've been a literal princess. He'd rather not rub anyone the wrong way on his first day as a wizard.

Theo and Blaise's measurements finished before his, so they took seats on each of the girl's flanks while they waited. As his own measurements finished, he asked if Madam Malkin could also provide him everyday clothes for his measurement. She happily agreed.

"You should get a holster," Theo called to Harry as he waited for his purchases.

Harry shot him a questioning look and Theo flicked out his hand. A wand snapped out of a hidden harness under the sleeve of Theo's robe. Theo made another movement and it slid back in.

His eyes lit up. That _did_ look useful. Certainly better than carrying it in his pocket.

So he'd gotten an enchanted holster along with his set of school robes and casual wear. Theo suggested for him to pay the extra fee to make sure his robes grew with him for a year, and he'd agreed, both for practicality and to sate his curiosity. After paying for their individual purchases, the four of them headed back out, Harry with his shopping bags. The rest had pulled out miniature traveling trunks from their pockets, which to Harry's astoundment, grew to full size so their owners could put their clothes in before shrinking back down.

He felt out of place carrying his bags, so he trailed behind the trio. 

As they approached Flourish and Blotts, Theo stopped. This caused the girl to bump into him, earning him a cold glare that looked out of place on someone her age. Harry wondered if she'd practiced that.

"Yes, Theo?" the girl asked.

"Sorry, Daph," Theo spoke. Harry blinked. Had he let her name slip on purpose? "I forgot to ask if Potter has a trunk."

But Theo didn't owe him any favors, so why would he- Ah, of course. A test. He pretended to miss the slip, and focused on the question.

He'd been thinking to go get one after they split up, but he wasn't going to pass up the offer. "It wasn't on the list, but I do need some place to put my books, and my clothes." 

"Thought so," Theo said knowingly. "Alright. Quick detour."

Blaise seemed to catch on. "I was wanting to get a Bag of Holding anyway."

'Daph' didn't protest as Theo and Blaise led the group away from the bookstore and towards a shop simply called Carriage. Harry balked somewhat as they entered, glad his companions were in the lead. Even in his new robes, he couldn't help but feel out of place.

Unlike the busy, cluttered interiors of the other shops he'd seen, Carriage had a lot of open space and far fewer customers. Glass shelves lined the walls, displaying sleek, fashionable bags of various style and color, each sporting labels that simply said _Carriage_. A smooth, elevated black platform in the center held a variety of traveling trunks, ranging in size from a small cat to big enough for Harry to sleep in; he suspected they were all enchanted to be bigger on the inside, just like the store. They ranged from leather to wood to metal.

A man in a tailored suit greeted them. "Heir Nott, Heir Zabini, Heir Greengrass, so good to see you again."

Harry didn't miss the man bowing ever so slightly to his companions.

 _Daph Greengrass,_ Harry mentally noted, although 'Daph' sounded like a nickname. He supposed it would be rude to call her that when she'd clearly avoided introducing herself. In fact, none of them were calling him 'Harry,' either. He wondered what that was about.

"Always a pleasure, Zain," Blaise greeted.

"And who might your friend be?" the man, Zain, turned to Harry with appraising eyes.

"Harry, Heir of House Potter," Harry said.

Zain's eyes widened a fraction, but he found his footing quickly. "Greetings, Heir Potter. Glad to see the rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated. Zain Edwards, at your service."

 _Heir Potter,_ he thought. It felt alien to him. He supposed he was older than Willow by a hair. He wondered how his sister would take that. She'd been heir to their house for eleven years.

"A pleasure," Harry said, returning the bow. He noticed his companions looking at him like he shouldn't have done that, particularly Miss Greengrass, but they didn't say anything.

Zain offered a practiced, winning smile. "How may I assist today?"

"I need a trunk," Harry said. "What kind of enchantments do you have?" 

That sounded professional and wizardly, right?

Harry ended up getting the third largest model Carriage had. It had a dial in front that changed which compartment would appear when the trunk was opened. There were eight general-purpose compartments and an additional two fitted with shelves for books. It sported two more compartments with Preservation Charms for storing food or ingredients. Finally, it had a secure compartment with a Preservation Charm that could only be opened by stating a password. Zain showed him how to change it later.

The salesman tempted him with a more expensive trunk that came with a miniature potions laboratory, but after asking Theo and Blaise for opinions, they'd pointed out they were going to be in school for the next seven years.

Harry had said "touché," and settled on his first choice. Zain _had_ managed to tempt him with additional security enchantments to prevent tampering. His trunk also came with the ability to sprout legs and walk, but after a look from his new companions, he'd decided it looked tacky and shrunk it down to fit in his pocket.

Blaise had gotten a smaller black bag that he showed Harry could fit a ridiculous amount of stuff, just like the money bag Gringotts had given him. Harry opted to get himself a matching one.

Zain billed him for two hundred fifty galleons and three sickles, which made Harry's head spin a little bit. His family was rich, but he should keep a better eye on his finances all the same. _At least I don't know how much that is in pounds right now,_ he thought.

Hopefully whenever he found out, it wouldn't shock him as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: (Speaking in Hagrid Intensifies)  
> AN2: The Wand Holster idea is borrowed from Sarcasm and Slytherin, which is where I first saw it.  
> AN3: The idea that robes are enchanted to grow with students for a year or two seems to be popular fanon, but not canon afaik  
> AN4: If you don't mind I'd love feedback on character interactions between Harry and Slytherin pals. Not sure if I nailed it or not. Probably not.  
> AN5: The 'Carriage' Store is based on real life muggle luxury bag stores. AFAIK we never see what a Trunk shop looks like in canon and I figured if three Pureblood Slytherins were going to shop for bags, they'd shop somewhere with style. Zain Edwards is a random name with no meaning. Don't think about it too much.  
> AN6: Yes, the wizarding form of formal address is absolutely borrowed from Sarcasm and Slytherin. I loved it too much not to re-use it.


	4. Shopping, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't own Harry Potter, but if I ever find a genie, you can guess what I'd wish for.
> 
> (The answer is more genies)

His companions found their required books shortly after they entered Flourish and Blotts. Harry had taken a moment longer, since unlike them he wasn't used to shopping in a magical bookstore.

They found themselves gathering in the least crowded section of the store - the history section - and looked over their purchases.

"Bugger, these are simple," he heard Theo say under his breath as he leafed through his copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1._

Harry perked up at that. "So you've already practiced, then?"

Theo gave him a look. "Underage wizards aren't allowed to perform magic at home."

Blaise had then had to explain that the Trace was a spell used by the Ministry of Magic to regulate the use of magic by underage wizards. Harry noted that Theo hadn't actually said he hadn't practiced.

"I'm going to be so behind," Harry complained.

_So much for achieving great things,_ his inner voice whined.

"Not really," Theo said. "I heard Muggleborn wizards start off rocky, but first year is forgiving enough that they manage to catch up. And most of us are still growing our magic, anyway."

"Yeah," Blaise chimed in. "At least you seem to actually be interested."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked. "Imagine you've been living like a muggle for ten years with awful relatives. Then you suddenly learn you can do magic."

"You'd be surprised how many people take it for granted," Miss Greengrass said. 

"I grew up wishing I had powers," Harry answered. "I won't waste them." The last thing he wanted was to be sent back to the Dursleys for not being good enough.

Miss Greengrass considered for a moment, then shrugged, somehow managing to make it look graceful. Harry wondered again if she'd been given lessons on how to be so elegant.

A flicker of amusement appeared on her face. "Maybe if you tried and had the right instruction."

Harry bit his lip. "Did I say that out loud?"

The girl nodded, then took a book off of the shelf and handed it to him. He was about to ask what it was when his eyes scanned the title: _Traditions of Wizarding Britain._

"Here," Miss Greengrass said. "You can start by going through this, if you really want to fit in."

Harry blinked at her, and then offered a small bow. "Thank you, Lady Greengrass."

"Lady Greengrass is my mother," she told him, though it lacked bite. "The correct prefix is Heir Greengrass, the way Zain addressed me. And you don't need to bow, Heir Potter. We are roughly equals."

He wanted to argue about showing his gratitude, but his gut gave him a better response. "I'll figure it out by the next time we meet."

She seemed to consider him for a moment. "Daphne, Heir of House Greengrass," she said.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Harry supplied. It was a guess, but Daphne seemed satisfied.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Theo and Blaise exchange loaded glances. It lasted only a second before Theo turned back to him with a smirk.

"Well, if we're giving you book recommendations to get you up to speed, I have a few suggestions."

Harry left Flourish and Blotts many Galleons lighter, but unlike the trunk he felt every knut spent had been justified. Despite his friends' (if that's what they were after only two hours of shopping) assurances, he couldn't help but feel he would be at a disadvantage. A bit of reading and hopefully practicing would get him better adjusted before the term started. Hagrid had told him he'd be spending the rest of the summer at the Bones house, where his twin sister had been fostered, and he could probably use magic there without being penalized.

_Right,_ he thought. _It's her birthday, too. Maybe I should get her something. I wonder what she likes._

He resolved to ask Hagrid if he had any idea whenever the large man decided to show his face again.

As he saw no reason to split off from his new companions, Harry followed them to the Apothecary, where he purchased two sets of first year ingredients instead of the required one, because Theo had warned him the Hogwarts Potions master reportedly had a temper so it paid to practice.

He'd purchased a standard cauldron and another one enchanted to resist melting. There had been a temptation to purchase more ingredients since Potions sounded fascinating, but Harry managed to restrain himself to buying a single set of the second year ingredients. He was already overspending as things were.

He idly felt his Gringotts money bag and wished there was a way to tell how much he'd spent that day. Then again, ignorance was bliss.

As they made their way out of the apothecary, Harry found Hagrid waving at him. He waved back, but froze when he saw Hagrid's face had turned pale.

"What is it, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"I, er, Harry, are those yer new friends?" he asked, gesturing to Theo, Blaise, and Daphne.

Harry had a bad feeling.

To their credit, his friends simultaneously schooled their features to look innocent. _Okay, there have to be formal lessons involved. Private tutors, maybe?_ he thought.

"Yes, actually," Harry said. "Theodore, Heir of House Nott, Blaise, Heir of House Zabini, and Daphne, Heir of House Greengrass. This is Rubeus Hagrid, Grounds Keeper of Hogwarts."

"Charmed," Daphne said, favoring Hagrid with a cold smile. It would've conviced Harry if he hadn't spent the past two hours with these people. 

"Your reputation precedes," Blaise added.

Hagrid eyed them with suspicion. "Harry, I dunno if ah should be the one sayin' this, but, well, if yer dad or mum foun' out ye were hangin' out with-"

"That's alright," Theo cut in. "We were just leaving."

That was a lie, Harry knew. The four of them were supposed to take a break at the ice cream parlour after purchasing books. A part of him felt upset, but he appreciated his new friends handling the situation with tact. He'd have to ask Hagrid why he was being rude later. He had rather liked Hagrid until just now.

"See you on the train, Potter," Blaise said.

"See you, Theo, Blaise, Daphne."

Daphne took one last glance at him, and then the three of them departed, disappearing into the crowd.

"Hagrid?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"What was that about?"

A minute later, the two of them were standing in one of the many less populated side alleys.

"Those kids," Hagrid began. "Ye shouldn't go near 'em, Harry. Their parents were Death Eaters. They worked for You-Know-Who."

Harry hid his surprise, instead opting to frown. "All of them? They seemed like good kids." A bit smooth for eleven year olds, admittedly. Still.

"Well, Nott Senior was a Death Eater," Hagrid said.

Harry waited, but it seemed that was all Hagrid was going to say. "And Zabini? Greengrass?"

"They know perf'ly well their friend is the son of a Death Eater," Hagrid answered. "Says a lot abou' 'em."

Harry nodded, knowing it was best not to antagonize Hagrid. He'd lived with the Dursleys long enough to know when to pick his fights. Blaise and Daphne had seemed like decent people, if the latter was a bit cold. Theo had been the most helpful of the three. It was a bit difficult to think Hagrid suspected him of being someone's evil minion. He'd need to do some reading over the summer to get the full picture.

He emulated the innocent looks his friends had worn and decided to steer the conversation somewhere more pleasant. "Alright, Hagrid. Now, I know it's Willow's birthday, too, so I was wondering if you knew what she'd like."

Hagrid grinned behind his beard. "That reminds me, Harry. I should get ye somethin'."

Harry's smile became less forced. "You don't have to do that, Hagrid. You already got me away from the Dursleys."

"Tha' was jus' my job, Harry," Hagrid persisted. "I know. I'll get ya an owl."

"An owl?"

"Smart little things," Hagrid said. "We use 'em to deliver mail."

Harry suppressed a wince. Hagrid had asked him how he'd missed all the Hogwarts Letters sent his way, and he'd had to admit that he'd been picking the mail up on auto-pilot without reading them. He'd been thinking of other things, like how he'd get away from the Dursleys for the day.

"Do I need an owl?" Harry asked.

"Er, no, ye can rent an owl from Hogwarts to deliver-"

"Is that the only pet I can have?"

"Er, no, ye can have a cat, an owl, or a toad."

Harry nodded. He'd read as much on the letter. "Is that a strict rule? Any other pets I can bring? I was hoping for something magical."

Hagrid tensed. It wasn't subtle at all, especially after spending two hours with his new friends. Harry wondered what that was about, but decided to file it away for later.

"It's my first day as a wizard, Hagrid," he said, laying the eagerness on thick. "I want something to remember it by."

"There's certain creatures ye can't bring to school, Harry," Hagrid said. "Ye gotta have a license from the Ministry to own 'em. To make sure ye don't harm yerself or yer fellow students."

That made sense. Hagrid _was_ Grounds Keeper of Hogwarts. That sounded like a job that entailed working with animals. "I don't know a lot about magical creatures. Don't suppose you do?"

Hagrid actually blushed. "Ye, I know a thing or two."

"Lead on, then, Professor Hagrid," Harry said jokingly.

Sometimes it was that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: *insert Hagrid joke here*  
> AN2: Short chapter, yes. Chapter Five will be up by the time you read this author note. I've received concerns if Harry is a pushover with a hero complex. I then realized I somehow deleted the "Smart Harry" tag from the fic by accident. Oops. I blame backspace.


	5. The Magical Menagerie

The smell assaulted Harry as soon as they'd wandered in. The Magical Menagerie was aptly named. Hoots, meows, and hisses reached his ears, nearly as varied as the pungent odors.

Various animals were kept in cages, from seemingly-ordinary cats to six-legged monstrosities that breathed fire. Out of the corner of his eye, a bunny transformed into an actual top hat. No wonder the Ministry required people to have special licenses to keep some of these as pets.

His eyes skimmed past the toads, barely gave them a glance. He lingered a bit more on the cats and owls, despite having refused one of the latter. They were cute, but for someone who'd lived his life not knowing he was a wizard, Harry needed something less mundane. Something that would drive home he wasn't just reading about magic anymore - he was living it.

He saw adorable bouncing furballs Hagrid identified as Puffskeins, newts in fish tanks that had two heads, giant snails with shells that shone with vivid colors. Hagrid warned him against those. Apparently their slime was toxic.

There were small, sharp-toothed creatures that flew around in cages. Harry had almost approached the cage before Hagrid said those required a license, too. 

He supposed it wouldn't be good if a flock of them got loose, though he didn't see how much harm such small creatures could do.

"What's that one?" Harry asked, seeing what looked like a large, spotted cat in a cage. Its teal eyes gleamed with intelligence as they tracked him coming closer.

"That's a Kneazle," Hagrid said. "Fantastic pets, but-"

"But I need a license," Harry finished for him. Figured. The Kneazle reminded him a bit of a big, predatory cat. "How do I get a license?"

"Er, ye gotta' be past the right year in Hogwarts fer starters," Hagrid said. "Then ye gotta apply at the Ministry to prove ye can handle 'em."

Harry nodded. He gave the Kneazle a sad look and drifted off towards the cages in the back of the Menagerie. A large, glass display taller than Hagrid faced him. There was a small tree inside, illuminated by false sunlight. Within the glass, he saw a small group of what looked to be tiny women grooming themselves. They had insect-like wings and brilliantly-colored dresses. The largest couldn't have been more than five inches tall.

"Before I ask anything else, do I need a license for these?" Harry asked.

"Er, no," Hagrid said. "Fairies are 'armless enough. We use 'em to decorate Hogwarts sometimes."

Harry frowned. "Isn't that like slavery? They almost look human."

He briefly recalled having to do the Dursleys' bidding before shaking the thought away.

"Not much more'n keepin' a cat," Hagrid answered. "They only look like small people but they don' have our brains."

Harry blinked at Hagrid, wondering if he knew what irony was. He wasn't convinced. "Can I talk to one?"

Not five minutes later, Harry found himself inside the glass container. The wizard manning the counter, a man named Ash who looked like he hadn't aged in two decades, told him it was too much of a pain to let all the Fairies out of their box, but letting him in and out was easy enough.

Harry found himself captivated by the fairies and their kaleidoscopic colors. The fairies, in turn, seemed to enjoy the attention, and flaunted their beautiful dresses and wings.

More than that, however, Harry felt a sensation he'd had earlier in the day, when he'd been chosen by his wand. 

He tried to focus, to recall the feeling of his wand choosing him, and isolate where the pull was coming from. He eventually traced it to a pale-skinned Fairy with butterfly wings. Said wings and her dress were a blended hue of blue and violet, reminding him of a dazzling night sky.

"Hello?" he called out to her.

In response, the fairy made a high-pitched buzzing noise. _Huh,_ he thought. Maybe Hagrid had been telling the truth. On closer inspection, he found that she had knife-like ears, like the elves he read about in stories.

"Can you understand me?" he asked.

The fairy nodded. He suppressed a frown. It didn't seem right to keep a creature that could understand English as a pet. His eyes flicked to the outside of the glass, to where owls were kept in cages. Then again, most wizards kept owls as pets, and those could clearly understand and follow commands.

"Where do I draw the line?" he questioned aloud. _Oh, we can test her intelligence. Can she count?_ "How many fingers am I holding up?"

The fairy buzzed at him in response.

It took all of Harry's self-control not to smack his palm into his forehead. _We're supposed to test her intelligence, idiot. Not ours._

"Let me try that again. Can you raise three fingers for me?"

The fairy looked at him, confused.

 _No math, then,_ he thought. Hagrid seemed right. She only looked humanoid, but her intelligence really was closer to an owl or a cat.

He knocked gently on the glass to tell Ash he was ready to be released.

Despite his earlier misgivings, he walked out of the shop with two cages in his hands. One held the Fairy, whom he'd named Nyx after the Greek embodiment of night, and the other a sleeping snow owl he'd give to his sister.

"Ye all set, Harry?" Hagrid asked as they approached his motor cycle.

Harry made a face at the thought of riding in it again, but unless wizards had figured out how to teleport, it was better than walking.

"I think so," Harry said. He'd looked over the list one last time before they'd gotten too far. He'd gotten everything he needed and then some, thanks to his new friends' (if that's what they were) suggestions.

* * *

The flight to Bones Manor went faster than expected. It was a large, awe-inspiring property made of spotless marble with beautiful gardens surrounded by an iron fence. Hagrid parked the bike in front of the gate rather than heading inside, which suggested to Harry that there was more to the protection than just the flimsy fence.

"What are the Bones family like?" Harry asked. He knew better than to judge books by their covers (quite literally, in fact, given the outright ridiculous art on some of Carter's wares) but he would be lying if the surname didn't give him pause. Although, he didn't imagine the good guys asked an evil family to foster his sister. She was the hero of the wizarding world, after all.

 _Then again, they did leave us with the Dursleys._ The thought was pushed down as quickly as it had surfaced. He found himself touching the key around his neck for assurance.

"The Bones're some o' the greatest wizards to ever live," Hagrid told him. "They fought with us during the war." His tone hardened. "Most of 'em didn't make it. Just Amelia and little Susan left."

Harry nodded in understanding. Like Willow and him. He supposed he saw why they'd been chosen to stick together.

The gates swung open to admit them, and Hagrid walked the bike in on foot. They hadn't walked ten paces when the large double doors of the manor suddenly swung open with a loud bang.

Harry faltered. Standing in the doorway was his mirror image, albeit with longer, shoulder-length hair and a scar shaped like a lightning bolt rather than the person-shaped one he had.

She inspected him from behind a pair of round glasses. What were the odds they'd both have poor eyesight?

"Willow Lily Potter!" an admonishing call came from inside. The girl jumped and dashed back inside, closing the doors behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: AFAIK the rule about cats, owls, and toads isn't this loose in canon, but then again, Ron had Scabbers.  
> AN2: I did my best to make this not a slavery thing by having Harry extensively test Nyx's intellect before agreeing to purchase her to check if she really was more animal than person. Hopefully that's good enough, but honestly there are worse things in canon, like Dobby and Winky.  
> AN3: Oh, and if anyone is wondering, my rule of thumb for creatures for this story is that anything classified "Beast XX" or lower is considered safe enough for keeping as pets without any special permission. Fairies are not Pixies. The former are typically not dangerous and the latter are classified as "Beast XXX" by the Ministry.
> 
> AN4: If anyone is worried about the length of the whole thing, I've noticed that the pre-Hogwarts chapters are surprisingly short. The total word count of the draft is roughly 50k words but we're 1/4 of the way there and only at 8k. I blame having to do research on Diagon Alley while writing these. The Hogwarts chapters have more meat to them. Hopefully that puts your worries (if any) to rest.


	6. Summer at Bones Manor

They sat in the drawing room of Bones Manor, three lounge chairs facing his own. The moving portraits of the various Bones family members littered one wall. Paneled glass windows dominated the other, offering a view of the sprawling garden and bathing the room in warm summer light. A deep red carpet protected the marble flooring from getting damaged by the furniture. 

Hagrid had dropped him off and essentially left him there to go do something for Dumbledore.

"You must be Harry," the older woman in the middle spoke. She had a kindly expression, though he felt there was some steel behind her pleasantness. "Welcome to Bones Manor. My name is Amelia."

No formal title, no indication she expected it. It was a refreshing change from Daphne or Blaise or even Theo, but he wanted to show his willingness to learn. Hagrid had told him how Amelia and Susan (whom Harry presumed to be the red-headed girl who wasn't his female carbon copy) were the last of the Bones family, ergo Amelia was Lady Bones. Another moment of silent risk calculation later, he decided she probably outranked him socially.

He bowed his head like he'd seen Zain do. "Charmed to meet you, Lady Bones. My name is Harry, heir of House Potter."

Amelia's face softened into a smirk. "If someone cared about formalities, they would inform you that my title is 'Madam,' not 'Lady.' However, _I_ will simply tell you it's refreshing to see a Potter with manners."

He saw Willow flinch out of his peripheral vision. _So our sister is not ladylike, then,_ his inner voice mused.

"Aunt Amelia!" Willow protested, then seemed to remember herself. "Happy birthday, brother! I'm sorry I didn't get you anything. I kind of only found out you were alive today."

Harry grinned back at her. "No worries, little sister. I only found out today myself. I just happened to be in a better position." He reached into his pocket, unshrunk the trunk, and dug out the cage that carried the snowy owl. "Happy birthday, dear sister."

If he'd been expecting his sister to be happy, well, she _was,_ but her face also held something uncertain. Before she opened her mouth, he had a feeling he knew what it was.

"Er, thank you, Harry," she spoke, twiddling her fingers with some nervousness. "But, uh, I already have an owl. His name is Hedwig and he actually looks just like that one. So, um," she trailed off.

Ah. Of course. She'd grown up in a wizarding family, after all. He should've guessed. Harry's face struggled to stay neutral instead of frowning. Hagrid really should've known. Part of him wondered if that was why the large man had been in a hurry to leave. His eyes went to the other girl, Susan.

"You must be Susan. How 'bout you? Would you like an owl?"

His heart sank into his abdomen, imagining how ridiculous he looked. Like a used owl salesman peddling to a little girl, nevermind that he himself was only a little boy.

"Er, yes, you can call me Sue," Susan answered. "But, er, no. I've already got an owl, too."

Amelia gave him a look of pity that he decided he didn't enjoy.

"Alright, then, I guess I'll keep her," Harry said. "Are we allowed to have two pets?"

Amelia sighed. "If Willow had her say, you could have a dozen. Hogwarts would probably allow two. Why? Did you get your own owl?"

"Not exactly."

A minute later, Nyx was sitting on the low table between him and the others. Her night-like coloration somehow complimented the orange light of the setting sun. She sat on the end facing Madam Bones, her legs crossed and draped over the edge, hands folded in her lap.

"She's pretty," Willow commented. Susan nodded in agreement.

"I'm afraid you can't keep a Fairy as your pet in Hogwarts," Amelia stated. 

"But Madam," Harry spoke amicably. "I cleared this with Hagrid who works at Hogwarts. He said Fairies were safe enough."

"Of course he would." Amelia rolled her eyes. "I apologize, Mister Potter, but Rubeus Hagrid is not the best judge when it comes to how safe magical creatures are."

"I suppose you have a better grasp, then?" It was an honest question, not a challenge, and he was happy to see Amelia seemed to understand.

"I'm hardly the foremost expert in Magical Creatures, but as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to bring your fairy into Hogwarts."

He was glad she didn't look pleased as she told him, but a part of him couldn't help but be reminded of all the times the Dursleys - Petunia especially - denied him things.

"Then, could I keep her here?" Harry asked. He was, of course, already plotting how he'd sneak her in.

"Thank you for understanding, Harry." Amelia snapped her fingers.

A small, brown-skinned creature popped up out of nowhere, wearing what looked to be a linen sheet tied to look like a toga. "You's called for Gretchin, boss?"

"Gretchin, this is Harry Potter," Amelia said. "Please extend him the same courtesy you've done with Willow. His fairy friend might require some looking after when he goes to Hogwarts."

"Aye aye, boss," the creature called Gretchin answered before turning to harry. "I's is Gretchin. If Boss Harry wants anythin', jus' call."

"Er, thank you," Harry said, then mentally cursed himself. He'd managed not to stutter the entire day.

"I still can't believe Dumbledore had you live with Muggles," Willow said. "What was it like?"

 _Hellish,_ Harry thought, but instead he said, "Not particularly pleasant. What do _you_ know about Dumbledore?"

Amelia heaved a sigh. "He's a loose cannon. Sorry, I know you were asking Willow, but I'm the one who has to deal with the old coot on the Wizengamot and the DMLE. Man keeps bending the rules and there's little the rest of us can do about it."

"Isn't he a war hero, though?" Harry asked.

Amelia quirked an eyebrow. "And since when did war heroes make great lawmasters? Or Headmasters, for that matter. The man is brilliant, but he goes behind our backs all the time with little consequence."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. So not everyone liked this Dumbledore character.

Amelia cleared her throat. "Well, it's going to be time for dinner soon. Willow, Sue, why don't you show Harry where he'll be staying?"

Trunk shrunken back into his pocket, Harry followed Susan and Willow up the stairs. Nyx amused herself by sitting on Harry's head, messing up the wild curls more than usual. Willow and Susan made small talk, largely with each other. Harry stayed quiet, since he didn't want to be rude, though one thing did catch his attention.

"Wait, we're having a party?" Harry asked.

"Bloody hell, Sue, he wasn't supposed to know!"

Susan's face turned red as her hair. "Sorry, sorry! It slipped."

"Dammit, Harry, we thought you weren't paying attention," Willow told him.

"Sorry. It's just that I didn't want to butt in," Harry said. "So, is anyone coming over?"

Willow beamed. It was hard not to let his sister's contagious energy get to him. "The Weasleys, Neville, Seamus, Hannah, Megan, and not sure who else."

Harry noted none of the friends he'd met earlier were in that list, but didn't ask. He thought he had a grasp on the situation, however faint. "Sounds like fun."

"You'll love them," Willow assured him. "Now come on, you gotta see your room and get changed."

"This is all for me?" Harry asked. He was half-expecting Willow and Susan to yell 'Psyche!' and laugh at him, but his long-lost sister only had a pleased look on her face.

He found himself in a room with bright, sky blue wallpaper and a balcony with an unobstructed view of the garden. A queen-sized four-poster bed took up one side of the room. He'd been provided with some empty shelves, a study desk, a table and a few chairs for if he ever had guests over. Compared to his cupboard, it felt like a luxury hotel.

"It's incredible," he said, a little breathless.

"Glad you like it," Susan said. "We have plenty of empty rooms."

Harry saw the subtle shift in her demeanor, how her shoulder slumped a little and her face sagged just a smidge. He grinned. "I love it. Thank you."

That seemed to brighten Susan's mood, because she returned his grin before she and Willow disappeared to let him gather his thoughts.

He'd barely had time to unpack his books and arrange his clothes in the wardrobe when Willow reappeared at the door.

"Hey, sis," he said. "Is it dinner time already?"

"In a bit," Willow answered. She walked in, closed the door behind her, and Harry couldn't help a bit of unease. It reminded him of being locked in the cupboard.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Look, Harry, I know we've only known each other for an hour or so," she started. "But I saw what you were doing."

"Uh, what?"

"Sue's pretty, but she's naive," Willow told him. He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. "Don't take advantage of her just because we live in the same house."

Harry's mouth opened, then closed, much like a fish trying to filter water. He wasn't quite sure what to say. Not even his brief encounter with children of high society could have prepared him.

Willow seemed to take his speechlessness as a good sign to continue. "If you spy on her in the bath, or- or break her heart, I'm going to hex you into next year."

He felt his brain recover, seeing what was going on. "Willow, I'm _eleven._ I'm not even old enough to have thoughts like that. But rest assured even if I magically become interested, I wouldn't be so crass as to take advantage of the future owner of the house I'm staying in."

Willow seemed to think about it, then nodded, satisfied. "As long as we're clear, brother." She smiled. "Gretchin will call you if it's time to eat. He's the Bones family House-Elf."

His sister opened the door and left without another word.

 _House-Elf,_ Harry repeated internally. Something to look up later. More importantly, Willow just gave him some insight into her and Sue's relationship. He guessed growing up together, the two had formed a bond like sisterhood. He didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, he was happy his sister had forged such a close bond. On the other, she'd essentially managed to replace him.

 _Granted, she thought we were dead,_ he thought. Still, it stung a bit.

Eventually, Gretchin appeared at the door with a loud pop, and that time Harry had managed to limit his reaction to a slight widening of his eyes.

When Willow said people were coming over, she'd meant it. He'd expected about a dozen tops, but the crowd numbered closer to twenty. A family of redheads with hair brighter than Susan's were nearly half of the guests. Harry supposed they were the Weasleys.

Willow led him around, showing him off to everyone for quick introductions that sent Harry's head spinning. No one practiced any of the formalities he'd picked up from his Diagon Alley friends.

Dinner gave way to excited chatter, since a fair number of Willow and Sue's friends seemed to be first years in Hogwarts as well. They mercifully left him to his devices as he studied them. Well, most of them, anyway.

"So you're Harry," one of the taller, red-headed boys said.

"You're taller than we thought," said an identical boy. Twins, perhaps?

"We thought you stopped growing as an ickle baby, after all."

Harry eyed them both with curiosity. His gut told him formality wouldn't do for these two. Not at all. "Are twins always expected to finish each other's sentences? Because I'm gonna have to work on that." he smirked.

The first boy smiled. "No, but-"

"Some of us do."

"Fancy trick." Harry grinned.

"It's easier if you're both this handsome."

"But you could certainly try."

"You know who I am, but who might you be?" Harry asked.

"Name's Fred. He's George."

"No, George. I'm Fred."

"Merlin, you're right. Damn."

Harry allowed himself to chuckle. Twins with a sense of humor. He'd better stay on their good side.

"So, you know what House you'll be in yet?" George-or-Fred asked.

"Although knowing your family, it'll probably be Gryffindor," Fred-or-George added.

"House?" Harry questioned.

"You know, in Hogwarts."

"Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin."

Harry noted the mild distaste when the twin had pronounced Slytherin. Interesting. "Er, I kind of grew up raised by Muggles, so I have no idea."

The twins raised their hands to do stage whispers. 

"Hogwarts students get sorted in your first year."

"You go to one of the four and stay there 'til you graduate."

"Or get expelled."

"But hopefully not."

"Anyway, Slytherin. Everyone says they're the evil house."

"Sneaky, sneaky snakes."

"Don't let us scare you off, though."

"The other three are just as nutters."

Ah. He had a feeling he understood Hagrid's aversion to his friends now. They hadn't been sorted yet, but he could guess they were probable Slytherins based on their interactions.

"Thanks, boys," Harry said. "Stuff to think about."

"Anytime, ickle Potter."

"Don't be a stranger."

With that, the two of them returned to the rest of the party. Harry watched them chat and bicker, noticing a quiet boy on the side who looked even more out of place than he did. He was holding a toad in his hands.

Harry crossed the room to sit down with the boy and offer him a small smile. "I'm Harry, Heir of House Potter."

The boy looked up, smiled back. "Er, nice to meet you, m-my name's Neville, Heir of House Longbottom, but if you don't mind, I'd rather you call me Neville."

"You don't like being called Longbottom?" Harry said, with a hint of a smirk. It _was_ kind of an unfortunate name.

"Er, no, not particularly. My friends just call me Neville," he said. "My gran appreciates the formality but I couldn't care less."

"Call me Harry, then."

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm surprised no one knew you were alive."

Harry saw a chance to probe. "You can blame Dumbledore for that."

Neville just nodded. "My gran's gonna flip when she finds out he made you live with Muggles."

Harry hummed. "I've been getting that a lot, actually. Is there something wrong with Muggles?"

Neville's eyes widened, as if realizing he'd said something he shouldn't. "I think they're alright. In fact, most wizards these days are half-blood and they're great, but _some people_ definitely care."

Harry filed that thought away, noting that Neville didn't seem to count himself as 'half-blood,' whatever that meant. Perhaps he'd need to probe his Diagon Alley friends for their thoughts on the subject. "Thank you, I learned a lot from this."

Neville looked genuinely pleased. "Happy to help, Harry."

July turned to August and Harry spent his days in the Bones House. After Sue showed him the library, early August turned to mid August as he lost track of time. He spent most of his life inside, reading both the books he'd bought and the ones he found there. _Getting Familiar with your Familiar_ by _Waver Velvet_ , a book on bonding with Magical Familiars, particularly fascinated him, though the Rituals it described were beyond him.

He'd written Theo, Blaise, and Daphne after learning how to use his owl, which he'd named Mona (because Morgana Le Fay was apparently a name people swore by, along with Merlin, and as such not appropriate for an owl). Theo and Blaise wrote him back, but Daphne, as he'd expected, gave him the cold shoulder. The snub made him swap from reading _Hogwarts: A History_ to _Traditions of Wizarding Britain_ though he'd planned on reading both, anyway.

Theo and Blaise he'd given a brief runthrough of his life, leaving out the more sordid bits, though their responses gave him a sense they had an idea of what really went on anyway.

Willow and Susan spent most of their time outside. His sister seemed to have a thing for flying on brooms, but he'd taken one look at how high up she went and promptly said no. The two of them didn't interact much, but they were friendly during meal times (though she had jabbed Harry for eating like a pig the first time). He was simply too busy reading and had no clue how to act around her.

By the fourth week of August, he'd finished going through each of his required textbooks at least once, as well as the book on Familiars.

On his last day in the Bones House, Harry pointed his wand at the the books he'd temporarily placed on the shelves and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa._ "

He grinned as the various spellbooks floated themselves into the book compartment of his trunk. He screamed when they abruptly crashed instead of floating gently down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: Yes, Waver Velvet is a Fate reference.  
> AN2: Yes, Morgana being shortened to Mona is a Persona 5 reference.  
> AN3: I have no idea what the difference between Madam and Lady is, either.  
> AN4: Yes, Gretchin is a Warhammer 40k reference.  
> AN5: You've probably noticed but unlike SnS Harry my Harry often has conflicting feelings. He'll probably be a lighter shade of Gray, but we'll see.


	7. The Hogwarts Express

"Platform Nine and Three Quarters!" he yelled as he dropped the glittering powder into the fire.

He tensed as green flames swallowed him, but calmed down when they dissipated and he found himself on a bustling train platform hosting a bright red train.

He remembered himself just in time to step aside. His sister came through the green fire, her trunk in front of her. He'd been surprised to learn that she hadn't gotten a decked out one like he had. He thought the Girl Who Lived would have had better luggage. It made him feel a twinge guilty for spending so much, but then again, he'd lived a decade as a friendless servant boy. No one could blame him for trying to make up for it. And if they did, he could always hex them.

Susan followed shortly with a similar trunk. Amelia had wanted to come with them through what she called the "Muggle Way" of reaching the platform, but there was a Wizengamot hearing she'd needed to attend.

"Right," Willow said. "Let's go, shall we? We'll need to find seats before it fills."

Harry hesitated. He'd barely spent time with his sister as things were, since they had monumentally different interests, but he hadn't read _Traditions of Wizarding Britain_ to not sit with his friends on the train.

"Actually, I need to find my friends," Harry said. He'd gone as far as to tell her he'd made friends in Diagon Alley, but not who they were, not until he had a firmer grasp of wizarding politics.

"Oh," Willow spoke. "Well, uh, that's okay. I'll see you in Hogwarts, then."

She smiled at him and he returned it before she and Sue went off.

 _I wonder if things will ever stop being awkward,_ he thought. He'd kicked it off with the Twins and Neville and Theo and Blaise, but for some reason his sister eluded him. Even talking to Daphne felt less awkward. At least with her, he knew half of his sentences would end with her giving him the cold shoulder.

He made his way onto the back of the train. His last letter with Theo had been them agreeing to meet near the rear.

It didn't take him long to look through the compartments and find Theo, Blaise, and Daphne. The three of them had a compartment to themselves, like Theo said they would. All three had their heads in books. Harry touched his hand to the door and pulled. It didn't budge.

 _Ah,_ he thought. _Well, then._

" _Alohomora,_ " he incanted, and the lock clicked open. No sooner than he'd opened the door, he found himself facing three drawn wands.

"Nott, Zabini, Greengrass," he greeted as if they didn't have weapons leveled at his face. His own wand was in his hand, but not in an attacking position.

"You got Blaise's lock," Theo said with an appreciative nod as he pulled his wand back into its holster.

"Sorry about that," Harry answered, not sounding sorry. He closed the door behind him and muttered " _Colloportus._ " A quick pull confirmed he'd locked it.

Blaise smirked. "No harm, no foul. Have a seat, Potter."

Theo and Blaise were seated together, so he should probably sit with Daphne, but the two of them were the least close among - oh. He glanced at Theo and Blaise, who were pointedly ignoring him. _I see,_ he thought.

He cleared his throat. "Pardon me, Miss Greengrass, but is this seat taken?" He gestured to the spot beside her.

"What does it look like?" she answered. It was a snub and he'd read enough to know it, but he could play her game.

"Have I caused offense, Heir Greengrass?"

"Yes, yes, you have," she told him, but her lips had taken on the friendly smirk he sometimes saw when she needled Blaise and Theo. "Oh, go on, Potter. Sit down."

Harry almost snorted, but did as asked. A moment later, he jumped out of his seat as something exploded under his arse. He looked down to find some kind of playing card on it.

Laughter sounded from around him. Even Greengrass was letting out soft snickers. There was a moment when he'd remembered all the times Dudley's gang had laughed at him, but somehow this felt different. 

"Such ladylike behavior," Harry quipped. She stopped to sneer at him. He sighed and laughed with them.

Once the commotion was over, he voiced something he'd realized when he'd finished reading through the book Daphne had told him to get. "I apologize for acting too familiar when we first met," he told them. "I didn't realize it was customary to go by surname until you were given explicit permission."

"So you actually read the book," Daphne said with some amusement.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Potter," Theo told him. "Most people don't observe decorum anymore."

"But you clearly do," Harry said, shooting a glance at Daphne, and then to the others.

"I believe the Exploding Snap card was sufficient payback," Daphne said. 

"Well, if it's all the same to you," Blaise said, "You can call me Blaise."

"And me Theo."

 _And my axe,_ Harry thought idly. He pushed the thought back before he accidentally laughed in his friends' faces.

Theo and Blaise gave Daphne a look. She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I suppose you can call me Daphne, though I kind of like you awkwardly trying to call me by title."

"If you insist on a title, it'll have to be Ice Princess," Harry quipped.

She glared at him. "Daphne it is, then."

"Well met again. You can all call me Harry."

Silence reigned for a bit and Harry inspected his friends' books to see what they were reading. Theo's book caught his attention. It read _Folio Custodia,_ a book Theo had discussed in their letters. It was mentioned in one of his other recommendations that the book had been deemed illegal-to-print in 1959, though if one happened to find a copy, the Ministry didn't care.

Harry had one in the Bones Library and immediately read through it, though he made sure no one else in the house ever saw him touch it.

"Your thoughts on the Avenging Ward, Theo?" Harry asked innocently.

Theo peered at him without putting the book down completely. "It's interesting, but the tendency to maim a random passerby makes it difficult to use. Might accidentally hit a Muggle with it."

Harry nodded. So Theo didn't gravitate toward outlawed spells simply because they were forbidden. Which was good, because Harry kind of had.

"I thought so, too. Invitation to Shadow sounds much more interesting."

"That's an illegal spell," Theo pointed, matter-of-fact.

"I never said I was going to cast it," Harry said with his best innocent face. "Only that it seemed interesting."

Theo nodded. The message was clear: Neither of them particularly cared about the legality of spells. "Good. We're all law-abiding model students, after all."

"I concur," Blaise cut in. "Spell's quite useful. It's like a persistent Confundus charm. A shame you can't perform it withou a fairy familiar."

Harry grinned internally. He'd missed these verbal gymnastics (writing letters wasn't the same), and he hadn't chosen to mention that particular spell for no reason. "That reminds me. I should introduce you."

His companions gave him curious looks - even Daphne - as he pulled his trunk out of his pocket. He opened it to the secret compartment and out came Nyx in a shower of blue and purple glitter.

"Theo, Blaise, Daphne, this is Nyx. Nyx, these are my friends."

He'd made a show of not being able to find her the previous night. Harry almost felt bad for Madam Bones when she consoled him and said fairies were mischievous beings and that she'd owl him if Nyx ever turned up.

"You've got good taste, Potter," Daphne mentioned, eyeing the glimmering fairy with a hint of admiration.

"Is - is that a compliment?" Harry teased.

"Oh, fuck," Theo said in a serious tone. "Hell must be freezing over."

The three of them laughed while Daphne muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a hex.

"So," Blaise started. "Is she supposed to be an owl, a cat, or a toad?"

Harry looked at his fairy thoughtfully. "Not sure. For now she's more of a pet than anything else. I found a charm for binding a Familiar but the spell wouldn't take."

"Don't worry too much," Theo reminded him. "You just turned eleven. Your magic is still growing."

"I'm pretty sure I could lend you a book on Familiars over the next summer if you'd like," Blaise offered. "My mum has her own familiars."

"Is this a book that's available in Flourish and Blotts?"

"No," Blaise answered.

"Might want to hold on to that until after summer, then," Harry told him. "I'm staying with the Bones family with my sister, in case you forgot."

Blaise nodded, clearly understanding what that meant.

"Boy, am I glad I decided not to send you this book I found in the family library," Theo said.

The four of them shared another laugh before the compartment fell back into companionable silence as they each went back to their readings.

An hour into their journey, the compartment door slid open again. Harry was sure he'd locked it. The four of them turned on the newcomer with wands drawn. It was a girl with bushy brown hair. Her own wand was out, but she tensed when she saw them aim at her.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Oh, um, sorry, I just wanted to ask if any of you had seen a toad?" the girl said. "I'm trying to help a boy who lost his. Sorry, the door was locked, and I thought it'd be faster to unlock it myself."

Harry glanced behind the girl and found a familiar face.

"Er, h-hi, Harry," Neville said.

"Hello, Neville," Harry spoke, then glanced at his friends. "Let me introduce you."

A minute later, they were all caught up on who each other was, including the girl who'd introduced herself as Hermione Granger, a muggle-born witch. He'd laughed it off when she said her books had told her Harry was supposed to be dead.

Theo and Daphne had shared a look when she'd mentioned her parents were muggle dentists, but hadn't said anything out loud. Harry had been wondering if there was any truth to the (probable) Slytherins' blood supremacy politics.

"Have you tried a Point Me spell?" Harry inquired.

"Er, no," Neville answered. "How do I-?"

"Just say 'point me' followed by the name of what you're looking for while imagining it in your mind."

Another minute later, Neville returned with his toad in his hands. "Thanks. Uh, do you mind if we join you? I was gonna sit with your sister, but there was a bit of a scene over there."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What kind of scene?"

"Er, there was this boy named Draco Malfoy and he told her she should associate with the right sort," Neville said. "Willow got really mad at him. I thought she was gonna set his hair on fire."

Harry nodded his thanks for the information. He'd have to find out more later. He turned to his companions. "What do you say, guys? Can they take refuge in our compartment for the time being?"

"I'm alright with it," Theo spoke.

"Same," Blaise said after some consideration.

Daphne shot a glance at Hermione before she nodded. He wondered if that meant she'd grown up with blood supremacist beliefs. Or perhaps Daphne was just being Daphne. She'd taken longer to warm up to him than Theo and Blaise combined, and the Potters were practically Sacred Twenty-Eight.

"Settle in, then," Harry said, scooting closer to Daphne so neither Hermione nor Neville would get hexed. Neville sat beside him, and Hermione took the spot next to Blaise.

"Is that-" Hermione stuttered a moment. "Is that _Rudimentary Runespells_?"

Blaise looked up from his book. "Yes."

Hermione pouted. "I tried getting a copy but Flourish and Blotts wouldn't sell to an eleven year old."

"That's because the book is semi-restricted," Blaise explained. "They only sell to people who've done their O.W.L.s."

"That's silly," Hermione said. "I've already finished every book in the first year curriculum. Why should I have to twiddle my thumbs until the year ends?"

There was a moment of hesitation as Harry practically saw the gears turning in Blaise's head. "Do you want to borrow it after I'm done?" he finally offered.

Hermione beamed, looking like Christmas had come early. "That'd be great, if you're sure it's alright. I promise not to damage it."

 _Ravenclaw,_ Harry thought. He'd read up on the four houses from _Hogwarts: A History_ and he was willing to bet five Galleons she'd wind up there. Maybe Theo or Blaise would be up for a wager.

"What about you?" Theo asked, looking at Neville.

"Uh, n-no thanks," Neville said. "I mean, my gran tells me it's dumb, too. B-back in her day they didn't restrict books as much, but I don't have much of an interest in runes."

"What do you have an interest in, then?" Harry asked.

"Uh, Herbology."

"Hey Daph," Theo called. "Doesn't your family have a library with a bunch of books on Herbology?"

Daphne gave him a cold stare. She clearly hadn't wanted to offer, but she was too well-mannered to say that, so she schooled her face into a thin smile. "We do, yes. I just finished reading a copy of _Noxious Herbs and Flowers_ , if you're interested. Try not to let anyone know where you got it, though."

Neville bit his lip. Daphne clearly expected him to balk at being offered an illegal-to-print-but-legal-to-own herbology book, but Harry thought he could see passion and sense of duty warring in Neville's eyes.

"I've already read it," Neville said. Theo, Blaise and Daphne blinked. Harry's jaw actually fell a quarter inch. "Gran's library had a copy, from back in her day, of course."

Daphne gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, and then engaged Neville in talk of Herbology far beyond what Harry had read. He noted that Neville had known enough to call her 'Miss Greengrass' instead of acting too familiar. Herbology seemed fascinating, but he only had so many hours in a day.

Harry pondered this new information and realized he had no idea where Neville would end up.

He and Theo shot each other a glance - a silent question if either of them felt the need to converse - and they went back to their books with the background noise of their new companions chatting.

Not long after, a knock at the door came. Noticing that the intruder was an older boy with what Harry had now identified as signature Weasley hair (and more importantly, a badge that indicated he was a prefect), he kept his face innocent and his wand in its holster.

"Ah, future Ravenclaws, I see," the boy spoke. If he recognized Harry he gave no indication. "You'll want to get changed into your robes. We'll be arriving soon."

"Thanks," Harry answered. He'd noticed himself taking point whenever a new person opened the door, but he figured the other three simply didn't enjoy talking to strangers.

Neville and Hermione waved their goodbyes as they left, since they hadn't actually brought their trunks with them. Harry wished them good luck, since the Weasley Twins had been on the train, too.

As they put on their robes, Harry spoke without aiming it at anyone in particular. "So, five Galleons says Granger goes into Ravenclaw."

"That's a sucker's bet, Harry," Theo told him. "Did you see how she practically drooled over Blaise's book?"

"Oh?" Blaise asked with an air of detachment. "I thought she was just drooling over me."

Harry snorted back a chuckle. "So, no takers?"

"I'll take that bet," Daphne answered, to Harry's surprise.

"You don't think she's going in Ravenclaw?" Harry asked. "Well, Theo, Blaise, you gonna back down?"

They sighed. "Fine, but we're betting with you, not against you."

"Done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: Book titles are not references to anything. Kind of just put up whatever I thought of at the time.  
> AN2: You have no idea how happy I was to finally write a scene with the main cast all together. Well, most of them.  
> AN3: 'Invitation to Shadows' is partially rooted in the older depiction of Fairies as mischievous tricksters who lead travelers astray. I probably could have thought of a cooler name to reflect it. If I ever do I'll go back and change it. Too busy wrapping up Book 1 edits.   
> AN4: Might start working on Book 2 tomorrow. That'll take a bit longer because Year 2 offers much more wiggle room than Year 1 but Merlin, do I have plans.


	8. The Crossing and the Sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably only one update today, sorry. Blame video games. Though if I get in the mood for it later I might put up another one. Or just make up for it tomorrow. We'll see. The chapters are getting longer now since we're in Hogwarts.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat when they finally got off the train. Hogwarts Castle loomed in front of him, on the other side of what he'd read to be the Black Lake. He'd done some magic over the summer (without Amelia knowing, of course) and he'd read much on the subject of Hogwarts from _Hogwarts: A History_ , but none of it compared to his awe at finally standing there, on the precipice of the rest of his life.

"You're drooling," Theo told him.

Harry quickly looked down, rubbed his sleeve against his mouth, and found he was not, in fact, drooling. He leveled a glare with no bite behind it at his friend.

"Surprised you're not," he countered.

"I have a relative who tells me stories," Theo answered. "And this is hardly the first magical castle I've seen, though it _is_ impressive."

"Disneyland doesn't count," Harry quipped.

"What?" Theo questioned.

"Muggle reference. Giant, outdoor place where people go to amuse themselves."

Theo looked thoughtful. "So it's like a giant fair, then?"

"The most magical place on Earth," Harry drawled. "Or so I've been told."

"You haven't been?"

Harry feigned hurt. "Did you not read through my sob story during the summer when I wrote you letters?"

"Oh, that was real?" Theo smirked. "Thought you were trying to win an award for writing a tragedy."

Harry snorted. "Come on, the sooner we're over that lake, the better."

He found himself in a boat with Theo, Blaise, and Neville. He'd asked Nyx to go back in his trunk before he shrunk it down. Fairies, he'd read, had some rudimentary magic for evading predators, but he wasn't sure how well she could hide against the faculty. Daphne had grouped up with (to Harry's surprise) Hermione and two other girls he didn't recognize. Daphne seemed to know the girls, if their hugging each other when they met was any indication. He sincerely hoped Hermione made it to the other side without getting dunked.

_More potential friends,_ he mused as he tried not to think about the great body of water beneath him. Living with the Dursleys hadn't given him much of an opportunity to learn how to swim, and this wasn't a good time for him to learn the hard way.

It was irrational, he knew, since a student hadn't died in Hogwarts for half a century, but he still found himself drifting into auto-pilot so he could pretend he wasn't potentially helpless against drowning.

He noticed Willow with Susan, Hannah, and a girl he didn't know in another boat. He waved at her absently before returning to his trance.

Theo, Blaise and Neville chatted amicably on the edge of his perception. His trance was interrupted by something large rising out of the water. Harry thought it was a snake at first, but saw it was a tentacle. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

It seemed to fixate on him until their boat passed, but never made any threatening gesture towards him, so his wand remained in its holster. He doubted he could have hurt it anyway.

"Is that normal?" he asked aloud.

"No," Theo, Neville and Blaise said in unison.

Harry nodded and filed it away for later. He was just relieved they could get off the boat and he never had to go near the Black Lake again.

He and his fellow first years crossed the lawn, following Hagrid's massive frame to the front doors of Hogwarts Castle. He let himself take a deep breath, soaking in the history and magic of this place. After all, this was going to be home for most of the next seven years.

The Entrance Hall radiated a sense of warmth and welcoming. Harry's eyes had widened a fraction when four moonlit silhouettes floated through the wall to greet the students, but he'd read all about the House Ghosts. Still, actually seeing them sent a jolt of excitement through him. 

A stern-looking old witch who reminded him of Amelia introduced herself as Professor McGonagall and instructed them to wait until she called so they could be Sorted. Harry walked over to her.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

The old witch looked at him and recognition dawned on her face. "Mister Potter. What can I do for you?"

"I'm aware my sister is kind of a big deal," Harry spoke. "And so is my being alive."

"And, Mister Potter?"

"I know my name goes before hers alphabetically, and that I'm older, but perhaps you could call her up first?" he requested. "I don't want her moment to be ruined by people whispering about me being alive."

"Very well, Mister Potter. I suppose I can make an exception, given the circumstances."

"Thank you," he said, and then went to Willow so she wouldn't be surprised.

"Hey," he said, offering her a smile.

"Harry!" she greeted.

He could hear the conversations around him soften so they could hear their exchange. "I asked McGonagall to call you up first. I hope you don't mind."

"Uh, not at all," Willow answered. Harry had figured as much. Willow was used to being in the public eye, though he had a feeling she didn't particularly enjoy it. "Why, though?"

"Oh, well, I reckon almost everyone is dying to find out which House the Girl Who Live's going to be in. I don't want to detract from that by announcing I actually survived You-Know-Who."

"Oh." Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses. "Thank you, Harry."

He nodded, then walked back to his friends, who'd been watching with feigned disinterest.

"You're on good terms, then?" Theo asked in a hushed voice. The veiled message: Theo had assumed their relationship would be somewhat strained since they'd grown up apart.

"It's awkward," he admitted. "We don't have the same interests."

Theo nodded, seeming to have put two and two together.

"So, who's this Draco Malfoy character? I recognize the surname, but all I know is they're Sacred Twenty-Eight." Theo had recommended a book called _Pure-Blood Directory_ by _Cantankerus Nott,_ whom Harry assumed to be a relative of his.

Theo jerked his head towards a blond boy who seemed to be busy making sure his robes were perfectly symmetrical. Harry noted that the boy seemed to be shadowed by a pair of larger boys who leered at anyone who got too close.

"Are those _minions_?" Harry asked. "Hell. How do I get minions?"

Theo sneered at the trio. "I think it's a family arrangement. My dad says Malfoy Senior had a pair with him at all times, too."

"If you ever figure out how to go back in time for an unlimited period of time, let me know."

Theo snorted. "It'll cost ya."

Harry's tone turned haughty and flamboyant. "May I remind you that I am the heir of an ancient and noble house? If you do this for me, I shall grant you the privilege of being my side piece." 

Theo and Blaise burst into laughter, but stopped when McGonagall shot them a disapproving look. They glared at Harry, who kept his face innocent. It was good to have people his age to talk to.

Eventually they followed McGonagall on stage, and Harry felt the eyes of the school upon them. Four tables for four Houses, the students seemingly arranged from youngest to oldest.

A crumpled old hat occupied a single stool. Theo and Blaise had talked about it while crossing the lake, so he had some idea what was going to happen. What he hadn't expected was for the Sorting Hat to come alive and begin singing about the four Houses. The descriptions were simplified, but largely on point, and he was glad the Hat at least seemed not to hold prejudice against any of the Houses.

"Abbott, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall called. Harry watched Hannah whom he'd met at their party walk up to the stool. 

It hadn't been on her head for five seconds before yelling, "Hufflepuff!"

As the Hat continued to sort people, he wondered where he would go. His books had precious little information on how the Hat actually Sorted people, but it seemed students had _some_ say in it.

_Isn't it a bit dumb to make people choose in their pre-teens?_ he mused. Muggles had a hard time choosing what profession to study for in their late teens. In truth, most of the Sortings took less than ten seconds, which told Harry they either already thought of it beforehand (which he doubted) or that they just picked whatever their families had been in.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

Harry watched an auburn-haired boy walk up to the Hat. The Hat sat on his head for a minute, which caused Harry's brow to rise. Interesting.

"Hufflepuff!" the Hat finally said after another half-minute.

Hermione had taken nearly as long. Harry idly wondered if Muggle-borns took longer because they had no previous information to shape their decisions around when the Hat cried, "Gryffindor!"

Harry's jaw actually dropped, appearances be damned. In what world is that girl _not_ a Ravenclaw?

He glanced at Theo and Blaise next to him, who were hiding their surprise a bit better, though it still showed.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

Daphne had the grace to wait until after she'd taken a seat on the Slytherin table to level a triumphant smirk at the three of them. How had she _known?_

Neville had gone to Gryffindor, too, which surprised Harry and made him glad he hadn't made a wager on that one. His gut had told him 'Hufflepuff.'

"Nott, Theodore!"

Theo grinned at him. "If you wind up in Hufflepuff I promise I'll try not to pick on you."

Harry rolled his eyes at him.

Theo went to Slytherin, as expected.

Finally, Willow's turn arrived.

She sat under the Hat for a good minute and a half, which Harry hadn't expected. His sister was many things, he'd figured out in the past month, but complex wasn't one of them. Or so he'd thought. Had he judged wrong?

"Gryffindor!" the Hat boomed, and Harry noticed three of the four tables erupt in cheers and applause. He'd expected her to land there anyway, but he wondered what the hold-up had been.

_"Curious,"_ he remembered Ollivanders' words.

Once the cheering died down, McGonagall called out, "Potter, Harry!"

Harry schooled his face into impassiveness as he strode towards the stool. He could see the hushed conversations that erupted across the hall. Theo and Daphne subtly shifted to make a space between them for him.

The Hat went on his head, and Harry found himself staring at its dark inside.

"Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. We don't get a lot like you," the Hat spoke to him.

"You can see everything, then?" Harry asked.

"I see sufficient courage, cleverness, talent, a thirst to prove yourself. Fear of not being good enough, fear of being alone again."

"What do you recommend?"

"You'd be wasted in Gryffindor," the Hat said firmly. "The other three would offer different advantages."

"Even Hufflepuff?"

"Do not lie," the Hat said. "I've read your thoughts. Some of them, anyway. Despite making friends in high society, you doubt your ability to maintain those bonds. Hufflepuff would lay that fear to rest, so you can focus on being the best."

"But my friends are in Slytherin," Harry protested. "Isn't it up to me in the end?"

"Normally, yes," the Hat answered after some time. "But your mind is fractured. How long have you been referring to yourself as 'we?'"

Harry frowned. He did do that, because often his inner voice felt like another version of him. "It's just a verbal tic. It's not like I actually think there's another guy in my head."

The Hat seemed to hesitate. "I'm not so sure. I cannot make this decision on my own."

"Let me make it, then," Harry insisted.

The Hat seemed to hesitate, but it relented with a final piece of advice. "Just remember: There is more to a student than their House." Then, in a louder voice, "Slytherin!"

There was awkward silence in the Great Hall, and then a few scattered hand claps. And then more. Just as Harry's hands moved to remove the Sorting Hat, it spoke again, but this time in a different voice.

It sounded ancient, and Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the time he'd spoken to a Boa Constrictor at the zoo. " _Greetingsss, fellow Ssslytherin. Ssseek out my Chamber if you deem yourssself worthy._ "

"Hello?" Harry called out, but the Hat had gone inert, its duty towards him finished. He decided to file that final hissing message away for later. There were other things to worry about, such as most of his House eyeing him like fresh meat.

He honed in on the seat Theo and Daphne quietly saved for him and took it. The other Slytherins had ceased staring, though he was acutely aware of them watching. Most weren't as subtle as they'd like to think, particularly the two goons Malfoy had.

A brown-haired girl leaned partway across the table to favor him with a pretty smile. "Harry Potter? You're supposed to be dead."

Harry returned the smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "As I keep telling people, the rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated." He made a point to glance at the Headmaster as he said so. "But I don't think we've met. May I know your name, pretty lady?"

He saw a flicker of movement as Draco Malfoy shot him a dirty look, but then the blond boy engaged in conversation with another Slytherin. _Interesting,_ Harry thought.

The girl batted her eyelashes at Harry in what he suspected to be a practiced maneuver. The effect wasn't as strong as she would've liked, them both being pre-teens and all. "Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. So, where've you been all this time if not dead?"

Harry gave her his best attempt at a Slytherin smirk. "Afraid that's classified information. You'll have to ask the Headmaster."

"Oh, don't be like that," a new voice, also a girl's, cut in. Harry looked to his right and found a pale-faced girl with jet black hair that reached her shoulders. Her lips were oddly distracting, he thought, and her eyes were a dazzling red. She had the seat on Daphne's other side. He actually remembered her as one of the girls from Daphne's boat. "You can tell me."

Harry opened his mouth to say something about how he'd rather not cross Dumbledore during his first year in Hogwarts, but what came out was, "Muggle relatives, on my mother's side."

Harry blinked. He hadn't meant to say that. He shouldn't have said that. Before he could ask her how she'd done that and politely ask her never to do it again, Draco Malfoy opened his mouth.

" _Muggles?_ " Draco repeated. His poor attempt at pretending not to listen was gone. "Does that mean you're practically Muggle-Born? A Mudblood in Slytherin? Wait until my Father hears about this!"

Malfoy sneered at him. It reminded Harry of Dudley's ugly face and that was enough to push his nervousness away. He knew a bit about the term Mudblood. As far as he coult tell, it was like tha magical equivalent of the N-word. 

Harry licked his lips. Getting payback on Dudley, even vicariously, was a rare treat. None of the other Slytherins except for the girl with the red eyes seemed to react, and even she just looked miffed at being interrupted. He was on his own, then.

"Who are you again?" Harry asked. Malfoy's annoyance at someone not knowing who he was displayed clearly on his face.

"I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy," the boy spoke, seeming to revel in his self-importance.

"No way," Harry said. " _The_ Draco Malfoy? I've heard so much about you."

The blond boy crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side in what he must have thought was his best pose. "Well, it's good to know that you understand your-"

"I heard you tried to introduce yourself to my sister on the Train," Harry cut in. "Something about how she should associate with the right sorts of people."

The sneer on Draco's face vanished, turned into a blank expression, and then contorted rage.

Harry pointedly ignored him and went on, trying to sound bored. "I heard she turned you down faster than the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin." Harry made popping sounds with his mouth as if he was licking food off his fingers. "I can't wait until your father hears about _that,_ Dwaco."

Draco opened his mouth, and then closed it again, fuming quietly. It took all of Harry's self-control not to openly laugh. Instead, he turned back to the black-haired girl.

"As I was saying," he said, as if nothing had happened, "You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Miss-?"

"Davis," the girl supplied, not missing a beat. "Tracey Davis."

She eyed him with newfound interest, like she'd been looking through a garage sale and realized she'd picked up something rare and valuable among the junk.

"Good to meet you, Miss Davis," Harry said pointedly. He wanted Malfoy to know the snub had been intentional. "You seem to know who's who. Anything you'd care to share about the faculty?"

"I suppose I could help you, Potter. Who'd you have in mind?"

Daphne, who'd been sitting between the two of them, sighed audibly. "Tracey, dear, if you're going to keep flirting with Harry, maybe you and I should switch."

The girl smiled thinly, not quite enough to show teeth. "Sorry, Daph. We'll keep it family-friendly."

Harry resisted the urge to remind her neither of them had hit puberty yet. "Yeah, sorry, Daphne. I just wanted to know about those two Professors."

If anyone else on the table noticed they were on a first name basis, no one mentioned it.

"Which ones?" Tracey asked.

"The one with the turban who looks like he's going to fall over any second, and the one with the greasy hair who's been alternating glares between my sister and me."

"Turban man is Quirinus Quirrell. He's gonna teach Defense Against the Dark Arts," Tracey told him. "He used to teach _Muggle Studies_. I'd say it's weird for Hogwarts to take him on except, well, do you know about the supposed jinx on the Defense position?"

Harry nodded. There'd been a brief mention of it in _Hogwarts: A History_ but the author _Bathilda Bagshot_ had mentioned the Ministry assures people that it was a load of hog wash. He suspected otherwise.

"And the other Professor who seems offended by my very existence?"

Tracey snorted. "That's Severus Snape, our Head of House and resident Potions Master. I'd say you should try to stay on his good side, but it might be too late. Don't know what beef he has with you, though. Maybe he doesn't like celebrities."

Harry gave her a good-natured laugh. "I'm not my sister, I assure you. Thank you, Miss Davis. Actually, can I call you Tracey?"

"Only if I can call you Harry." The girl winked.

"I swear if you two keep this up, I'll hex you both before we get to the dungeons," Daphne said. Harry wasn't sure if she was kidding or not.

"Zabini, Blaise!" the Sorting Hat called out. Blaise was the last student on stage. "Slytherin!"

Harry clapped along with his fellow Slytherins as Blaise took a seat next to Theo.

"Zabini?" Pansy asked. "You don't mean _that_ Zabini, do you? From Italy?"

Blaise's look was calculating. "We're the only ones, as far as I know. Who might you be?"

"Pansy Parkinson," the girl said, leveling the same smile she'd used on Harry at him.

Blaise countered with one of his own. "Charmed."

Harry made a mental note to keep his sister, Susan, and possibly Hermione (if she remained a friend) away from Blaise.

"Welcome!" the Headmaster called out to them. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I have a few announcements to make. Firstly, our Caretaker, Argus Filch, wished for me to remind everyone that the Forbidden Forest is called Forbidden for a reason, and that students are not allowed inside unless overseen by faculty." 

"How subtle," Harry quipped. Several Slytherins smirked.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry's brows rose at that one. What was that announcement doing in a school for teens and pre-teens?

"Finally, I would like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Is he insane?" Harry asked. Because if he was, it'd put a whole new light on why Dumbledore had dumped him with the Dursleys.

"It's one of the few things all the Houses agree on," Theo drawled.

"Why is he Headmaster, then?"

"Because he's powerful. Maybe the greatest wizard still alive today. They said he was the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of."

_Right,_ Harry thought. Dumbledore had been leading the opposition against Voldemort. He wasn't here to teach. He was here to steer the future of Wizarding Britain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: You may have noted a lot of similarities to the Sorting scene from Sarcasm and Slytherin. I listed that series as my inspiration for a reason, you know. I tried to put my own spin on things, but there's only so much you can do without blasting the continuity to smithereens.  
> AN2: I swear there's no shipping in this. None until fourth year, in fact, unless I'm unable to contain myself and start teasing in Year 3.


	9. House Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly short chapter. Going to upload the next one after I give it another read-through. Might take an hour or so since it's almost double the length of this one.

The Fifth Year Slytherin Prefects herded them out of the Great Hall and past the Entrance Hall, through a door on its right side and down a marble staircase that led deeper into the Dungeons.

None of them said a word as the two Prefects stopped in front of a painting of Salazar Slytherin. The male Prefect spoke. "As far as anyone outside Slytherin knows, the entrance to our Common Room is here. I doubt I need to tell you this, but we Slytherins are a cut above some of the others in the brains department."

The female Prefect, who'd walked ahead, called to them. "The actual entrance is over here," she said, gesturing to a blank section of wall a few meters away. "Spider Monkey."

There was no visible change, but the girl walked straight into the wall and through. False walls. The idea made eleven-year-old Harry giddy.

The male Prefect spoke up. "Well, don't just stand there gawking. Get in before someone else sees."

They hurried in and Harry found himself staring at a surprisingly long room with stone walls on three sides and a low ceiling. The fourth side was made of glass, and Harry suspected he was looking at part of the Black Lake, if the murkiness was any indication. So much for never going near it again. Green light filled the chamber from lamps hanging on chains while a fire crackled under an elegant silver mantelpiece depicting a snake.

The furniture looked expensive but comfortable, though Harry would prefer to find somewhere more private soon. Hogwarts was supposedly full of secret rooms and passages. He hoped to map out most of it during the first year.

The Prefects gathered the First Years around the hearth. "Welcome, Firsties," the male one started. "Congratulations on being Sorted into the greatest of the four Houses."

Snickers came from the assembled students, though Harry contented himself with a smirk.

"But before you retire to your rooms, dorms or otherwise," the female Prefect continued, "We'll be briefing you on a few things."

 _Dorms or otherwise?_ Harry thought, wondering what that was about.

"My name's Edward Carter," said the boy. Now that he was standing still, Harry saw he had a tall, severe look that seemed not to match his friendly demeanor.

 _Carter?_ Harry thought. He wondered if he was related to the man whose key he was still holding onto. He'd have to ask sometime.

"And I'm Gemma Farley." That was the girl, who had a head of dark blond hair.

"The first rule of Slytherin House is that you don't talk about Slytherin House," Carter said. "Any internal disputes don't make it outside. The other Houses do _not_ see us fighting each other. So no costing House Points by framing other Slytherins. The other Houses kind of have it out for us, anyway. Ideally, you would all get along and make my job easier, but that isn't going to happen, is it?"

The first years snickered again.

"Second rule, related to the first," Farley spoke. "Never bring anyone not from Slytherin in here. No student from the other Houses has entered this hall in centuries. We will not change that now. If you violate this rule, expect not only ours, but the wrath of the entire House to fall upon you. Password changes every week, which is twice as often as the other Houses know it does. New Password will be posted on the bulletin board every Monday. Anyone says the previous Password to the portrait, they'll get hit by a Pimple Hex by said portrait."

Harry nodded. Got it. No sleepovers and he definitely needed to find a place to study if he wanted to have friends outside Slytherin.

"Third. Everything inside that false wall is neutral ground. No dueling, spell practice, or prank-pulling here or in the rooms. Repairing furniture this nice is a pain in the ass. Go find someplace else."

"Fourth. We're the house of cunning and ambition. Sometimes you'll need to bend or even break the rules to get ahead. Just make sure you don't get caught. If you need a fall guy, pick someone from outside the House. I personally find Gryffindors make easy targets."

More snickering from the students. Harry made a mental note he should probably try to keep an eye out for Willow if possible.

"Fifth. Slytherins care about our appearances, so you will not leave this room in a sorry state. If you don't have the money to afford at least good robes, talk to me or Gemma after this briefing. We'll sort you out."

Harry's eyebrows rose at that. He understood the ulterior motive, but it was surprisingly generous.

"Sixth. Slytherins have a reputation for doing well in school, especially Potions. The other Houses will tell you Snape has favoritism towards us, but he'll fail you just as easily as anyone else. We've won the House Cup seven years running, and while the Quidditch Team would love to take all the credit, it's at least partly because we excel. If you're having trouble in class, arrange for tutoring from the upper years. Slytherins take care of our own, though most of us wouldn't mind a few Galleons thrown our way for our trouble."

"Seventh, respect each other's privacy. What goes on in someone's room, especially the private rooms, is none of your business. The charm for dampening sound is _Quietus._ The rooms all have a minor, permanent version applied, but it only dampens sounds, not negate them, so keep that in mind."

"Finally, a piece of advice. Your social standing in Slytherin is of the utmost importance. Traditionally, First Years get a free pass from the rest of us, but do _not_ do anything that would make you or the House look weak. You _will_ get eaten alive. I suggest you take this one year reprieve to get yourself situated."

Harry nodded. He'd suspected as much from how his friends acted during dinner. He would've had trouble believing they were kids if he wasn't one himself.

"Now, room assignments."

Harry was pleasantly surprised to know he, Theo and Blaise had a room to themselves. Apparently, being underground afforded Slytherin with more rooms than the other Houses, although he did have one complaint.

"How come Malfoy gets a private room?" he asked once the door was locked behind them.

"Because he's a Malfoy," Theo answered. "Just be glad we're not bunking with his goons."

Harry paused to imagine that, and conceded the point. The dorm they'd been given was a rectangular room with three four-poster beds swathed in green and silver. They each had a bedside table and space at the foot of each bed for their trunks (though Harry suspected all three of them would continue carrying their shrinking trunks on their person), but other than that, it was surprisingly sparse. An adjoining door led to a shared bathroom.

"If it makes you feel any better," Blaise added, "Daphne got her own room, too, while Theo and I were left high and dry."

"Why Blaise, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you and Theo dislike my company," Harry quipped.

"Well, I'd take you over the goon squad."

"I'm touched."

Harry opened up his trunk and out came Nyx, looking cross at being stuck inside for so long. "Sorry, girl. Couldn't let you out until we were somewhere private."

The fairy huffed, but didn't seem too irritated. Hopefully if he kept trying the Bind Familiar Spell he'd get it to work before the year ended.

"Are you gonna let her out during class?" Theo questioned.

"What do people normally do with pets during class?"

"Dunno. Probably just leave them in their cages. Owls go to the Owlery, of course, but other than that," Theo trailed off and shrugged.

"Might try to bring her with me from time to time," Harry eventually said. "Although ideally I'd cast the Familiar spell first so we can understand each other better."

"If you get in trouble, you can just pretend you've never seen her before and she'll probably get away. Fairies aren't hard to find around here."

Harry nodded. That's what he'd been planning to do anyway.

"What do you guys know about Daphne's friend?"

"Pansy or Tracey?" Theo inquired. "Nicely done with Malfoy, by the way."

"Did I miss something?" Blaise asked.

Harry then told him the story of how he'd shut Malfoy up.

"Damn, I wish I'd been there."

"Do you not like Malfoy very much?" Harry asked, directing the question to both of them.

"He's a bit of a prat," Theo said. "I'm supposed to get along with him because his father and my father are _associates,_ but he's throwing his weight around a bit much for my liking."

Harry didn't need to ask what they were _associated_ in. He believed the rumors at least that far, and some light reading had revealed both Nott and Malfoy family heads had been acquitted Death Eaters.

"I don't have such obligations," Blaise said with a smirk.

"Lucky git."

"So, about Parkinson and Tracey," Harry spoke.

"Trying to woo the ladies on your first week?" Blaise asked.

"No, that would be you," Harry answered with no difficulty. "I just turned eleven. It'll be another year at least before I start thinking about that kind of stuff. I just want to know what their angles are."

"Pansy's another person I need to get along with," Theo said simply. "Careful around her. You might have guessed she likes to gather gossip. Also, her family's Sacred Twenty-Eight, too."

"I did notice. Mother or father?"

"Mother."

"Are she and Malfoy-"

"Family arrangement," Theo said simply.

Harry nodded. "And Tracey?" He remembered the odd slip he'd had when she'd asked him about his previous living arrangements.

Theo and Blaise exchanged a look. Blaise was the one who answered. "She's a half-blood, with some, uh, unusual circumstances. It's not really our place to say. Her dad works for the Prophet."

"Her mother was a muggle?" Harry hazarded, seeing the reluctance on Blaise's usually-cool face.

They didn't answer, which of course, in itself was an answer. Interesting. He'd read wizards could produce viable offspring with other species, but such things were rare, and often looked down upon. Malfoy hadn't commented, so he either didn't know or Tracey had something on him.

She was a potential ally as a fellow half-blood and they were already on a first name basis, but he'd have to be wary about her strange ability to compel him to talk.

"Thanks," he said, and meant it. They had no obligation to tell him as much as they'd already done.

The other two nodded and they parted ways to read in companionable silence. They had class in the morning, and it paid to make a good first impression.


	10. First Lessons

He 'ran into' Willow outside the Great Hall before breakfast the next morning. He felt he should ask how she was doing after getting Sorted. And get a feeling for what she thought of him getting put in Slytherin.

He was surprised to find she'd managed to gather a crowd around herself, including Susan, Hannah, Neville, and the first year Weasley. Harry thought his name was Donald.

He caught her eye and she made some inaudible excuse to her posse so she could wander off to meet him in a shadowed corner just outside the Great Hall.

She still looked a bit like a mirror image of his, though their ties were different colors now, at least.

"Hey Harry," she greeted. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he told her. "The Hat took a while Sorting you and I thought maybe you went to the wrong House."

She offered him a small smile. "It talked to me. Said I'd do well in any of the Houses. Almost put me in Hufflepuff, but I picked Gryffindor in the end."

"I'm glad Sue and Abbott are still hanging out with you," Harry said. "You've got a crowd, actually."

"Abbott?" Willow snorted. "She'd bury her face if you called her that. Just go with Hannah."

"It's a -" he'd been about to say _Pureblood_ but caught himself, "a Slytherin thing. House is wickedly complicated."

"Glad I don't have to deal with it, then. The Hat offered me Slytherin, but I said no."

Harry held back a frown, though he had a feeling the distaste showed on his face. "Because Voldemort was in Slytherin?"

Willow shook her head, not flinching. "No, because I'm supposed to be the heroine of the wizarding world. I figured it would be more inspiring to people if I went in Gryffindor" She made a face."

Harry's frown threatened to make itself visible. The implication was obvious: She'd rather have been in Hufflepuff. "You put yourself in Gryffindor because you thought it's what people needed? Will, you don't owe them anything. You already slew Voldemort."

"It's not about what I owe people, Harry. It's about what I can do to help heal the ones who've been hurt."

"You are _such_ a Hufflepuff."

Her smile didn't fade, but he thought he could see it falter a little. "What about you, Harry? You took your time under the Hat, too."

"Strangely, it offered me Hufflepuff, too," Harry admitted. "But if you tell anyone, I'm going to jinx your trunk."

His sister giggled. "I'd like to see you try."

He didn't tell her he already knew a few jinxes courtesy of his summer reading, and that it wouldn't have been that hard to follow a Gryffindor (Neville came to mind) to their Common Room. "Well, I'll see you arou-"

"Will!" a voice interrupted. Harry found himself face-to-face with the Weasley boy, who seemed furious. "What're you doing hanging out with _him?_ "

"Weasley," Harry responded. "I'm having some trouble remembering your name. Donald, was it?"

"It's _Ron_ ," the Weasley answered. "Stay away from Willow, you slimy git. She's twelve times better than you."

"Ron!" Willow reproached. "That's my brother you're talking to."

"Your brother who's in _Slytherin,_ Will. Come on before his taint gets on you."

Harry had been about to say something acid, but noticed that Willow's friends had arrived upon hearing Weasley make a scene, so he kept his face neutral. "See you around, Will."

"See you, Harry," she said and went off with her crew.

Transfigurations was surprisingly simple, although he suspected the lessons were set in a way that students who didn't read ahead of time had a chance to pull it off. He'd managed to turn his match stick into a needle before the period ended, though he was the third student among the Slytherin class who finished out of only five. Draco finished first to his frustration, then Theo, then him. Blaise followed after some help from Theo and Daphne just barely managed after Harry offered advice that she'd grudgingly accepted. Draco hadn't bothered to help anyone. He and Theo earned five House Points each for their initiative, which had the nice bonus of driving Malfoy mad.

They filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with half-hearted anticipation. He, Theo, Blaise and Daphne had all finished reading the required textbook over the summer, so they knew nothing exciting was going to happen, but for some incomprehensible reason, they were taking the class with Gryffindors.

Harry wouldn't go after his sister, obviously, but an open invitation to jinx Weasley was too good to pass up. It turned out to be for naught as Professor Quirrell alternated between telling long stories of his world tour before taking up the position and asking questions about the first chapter of the textbook.

By the end, Harry had been tempted to hurl a Knockback Jinx at Weasley anyway just to cure his boredom, but Malfoy beat him to it.

The next day, Harry's eyes lit up at breakfast as a Snow Owl came in with a letter. Unfortunately, it had been Willow's. If he hadn't known better, he would've thought Hagrid had suggested getting an identical owl to his sister's just to mess with him, but Hagrid lacked the savvy for such a prank.

"We have _Potions_ with Gryffindor," he muttered as he, Theo, and Blaise descended to the dungeons after lunch. "Why? Who makes the schedule? Are they running a betting pool for how many students get jinxed per day?"

"If they are, I want in," Blaise said. "I'd probably make a killing."

"Our last bet didnt' pay off," Theo reminded him.

"Oh yeah, I haven't paid Daphne," Harry said.

"Well, don't do it over dinner unless you want the rumor mill to go wild. The Gryffindors are already saying you're some kind of budding Dark Lord."

Harry nodded. He had a feeling he knew where it was coming from. "I was thinking of starting a study group, actually. Since the four of us are all reading ahead."

"Just the four of us?" Blaise queried.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Careful you don't overextend, Harry," Theo warned.

"Don't worry. It won't be that big a group. I was thinking the group from the Train, maybe see if I can rope in some others."

"Granger?" Blaise asked.

Harry nodded.

"Talk to her before-hand," he said. "If she pulls that know-it-all act in front of any other Slytherins, Daph might hex her to keep up appearances. If she can curb that, I'm fine with it."

"Really?" Theo asked.

Blaise shrugged. "She's a good witch."

"I'll talk to her before or after dinner. Longbottom, too."

"Why him?" Blaise asked.

"He's Sacred Twenty-Eight, and kind of really good at Herbology if you hadn't noticed." Harry smirked. "Might be useful to have someone who lives in the same dorm as Weasley on our side, too."

Blaise's face brightened. "Yeah, I can get behind that. So, where and when exactly?"

"You got somewhere else to be?" Theo teased.

"No, but I'd rather not get lost in the castle on my first weekend."

"There's a mixed study hall on the second floor," Theo offered. "Tomorrow afternoon? Two-ish?"

"That works out fine," Harry said. "I might have something to do in the morning."

His friends gave him curious looks but he didn't volunteer anything more, so they moved on. In truth, he'd just planned on looking around the castle for any private areas to study.

"Want me to tell Daph for you?" Theo asked.

"Yes, please."

Theo nodded, then bit his lip and said, "Maybe don't bring your sister. She kind of has a crowd following her."

"No, definitely not," he said. "Unless we need her to bring Weasley for target practice."

They shared a snicker before lining up outside the corridor to the Potions room. He made a point of greeting his sister, Hermione, and Neville while they waited. Weasley and a pair of Gryffindor boys had looked affronted by him being civil with their Housemates. 

Their poor attempt at glaring almost looked cute compared to the ones Professor Snape had leveled at him and Willow during the Welcoming Feast. At least it wouldn't be as boring as Quirrell's class.

The two Houses filed in, taking separate parts of the classroom. Harry was less confident than he would have liked. He'd only tried brewing Potions once over the summer and that had ended in a gooey substance he'd been too afraid to test. Still, he'd spent more time reading about it afterwards to compensate. He hoped that was enough.

Each table was meant for four students. He, Theo and Blaise wound up sharing with a stocky girl named Millicent Bulstrode. Daphne, Pansy, and Tracey took another, for which Harry was glad because he didn't want to start spilling his darkest secrets in the middle of Potions. Draco and his minions took the last table on their side.

He saw Neville, Hermione, Willow, and Weasley sharing a table. He didn't know the rest of them by name.

Snape entered shortly, his robes billowing as if by magic, which Harry suspected was the case. Any and all sound died as he glared at the assembled students. Snape pulled a scroll out and called the roll.

He shot Harry a glare when he reached his name. 

"Here," Harry said, and Snape mercifully moved on.

He did the same to Willow. "Ah yes, Willow Potter. Our new celebrity."

Malfoy and his brutes snickered. If Snape heard them, he gave no indication.

"Here," Willow answered. Her back was ramrod straight, Harry saw. That wasn't good.

Snape delivered a speech about the art of Potion-brewing so dramatic that Harry suspected Snape had attended Drama Club at some point in his life. He made a mental note to ask someone from the faculty about what extracurricular activities were available for first years.

"Potter!" Snape called out. 

Harry and Willow both looked at him, then each other. Snape realized his mistake.

"The younger one," he added. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry saw Hermione's hand immediately shoot up. He really should probably talk to her if he wanted her to be in their study group.

"Er, the Draught of Living Death, Sir," Willow answered.

Snape's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. "Where can you find this information in the textbook?"

"Near the start, Sir. It's part of the chapter on basic safety when brewing Potions."

"Five points to Gryffindor," Snape hissed, as if the words had to be dragged out of his mouth. "Other Potter!"

"Sir!" Harry focused. He didn't appreciate being called the 'Other Potter' but he didn't like getting hexed by his fellow Slytherins even more.

"Where can I find a Bezoar and what purpose does it serve?"

"A Bezoar is found in a goat's stomach. It cures most poisons."

"Five points to Slytherin," Snape drawled. "Longbottom!"

"Y-y-yes?"

"Tell me the difference between Wolfsbane and Monkshood."

"Er, there isn't one." Snape glared at him, and Neville's lips loosened. "They're the same plant! They also go by Aconite."

Snape actually sighed. "Five points to Gryffindor." He sounded like someone had just kidnapped his puppy.

"Your sister reads?" Theo whispered.

"She told me the Hat wanted to put her somewhere else," Harry answered. He didn't mention it was Hufflepuff.

"Today, we will be brewing the Boil Cure Potion," Snape said, seeming to have recovered from his minor shock. He waved a hand and the blackboard suddenly held instructions for brewing said Potion, written in chalk. "This will be an assessment of your current Potion-Brewing abilities. You will work in pairs. Begin."

Snape's sneer told Harry he didn't expect much, but he'd done alright in his classes so far. He'd be damned if he started screwing up on this one.

He and Theo pointedly ignored the dirty look Blaise shot them when he realized he was going to be working with the unknown quantity that was Millicent Bulstrode.

_Sorry, Blaise,_ Harry thought. _But I'm not risking my social standing working with Bulstrode._

He only felt slightly bad after he realized how well he and Theo were doing. Theo had clearly tried brewing before, and Harry had to begrudgingly admit that years of cooking for the Dursleys translated well to Potion brewing.

There was an accident partway through the class involving Neville, a melted Cauldron, and a livid Hermione. Snape sent them off to the Hospital Wing for treatment after lecturing Neville on what he'd done wrong involving putting the Porcupine Quills _before_ taking the Cauldron off the fire. Harry made a note of this for possible use later. A Boil-Causing Potion sounded useful, if he could stop it from exploding in his face while brewing.

The Hospital Wing sounded interesting, too. Perhaps he should pay a visit and see if there was any way to convince the staff to teach him a few things.

Harry's Potion seemed acceptable, if not quite remarkable. It was a good second try, at least. Snape took his vial without comment.

He cleaned up his Cauldron with a spell he copied off of Theo and stowed his Potions Kit into his trunk while the others placed theirs in provided storage. As the students began to leave, Harry hesitated a moment, wondering if he was overextending, but decided it was worth a shot.

"Yes, Mister Potter?" Snape asked, not looking up from his desk.

"Professor, I was wondering if there were any extracurricular activies available to first years," Harry started. "Particularly anything that would help me get better at brewing."

Snape regarded him with an unreadable stare. "The school does have clubs, but anything academic is unavailable until at least second year, and most require you to be higher than that. I am also far too busy to offer remdial lessons to every student who asks."

Harry schooled his face to what he thought an innocent eleven-year-old would look like. "Oh, of course not, Sir. I wouldn't dare waste your time."

"Sarcasm, Mister Potter?"

"No, sir. Never. I just don't want to bring the Slytherin name down. I was raised by Muggles, so I don't have prior brewing experience."

That seemed to make Snape consider. "Hogwarts has spare ingredients among the store rooms in the dungeons. They're bought in bulk and typically lower quality than what you'd find in an apothecary, so I would not advise using them in my class."

Harry nodded. The message was clear: Use the cheap stuff to practice, but I'm going to fail you if you try to actually use them here. "Thank you, Sir. I won't let you down."

"See that you do not," he said, and bade Harry to leave.

Before dinner, he waited for Hermione in what was quickly becoming his usual shadowed spot near the entrance of the Great Hall. He marked her as she came into view and was glad to see Neville with her. That made things a bit easier.

He waved at them but didn't get a response as they seemed to be discussing something. Harry rolled his eyes, made sure no Prefects or faculty were nearby, and shot a weak Stinging Hex at Neville.

They both looked cross as they walked over.

"I can't believe you've been in Slytherin for a week and you're already picking on Neville," Hermione fumed.

"I'm really sorry I had to do that, Neville," Harry said. "Are you alright?"

"It's fine, Harry," Neville said, shaking the arm Harry hexed. "I get worse nicks working the Greenhouses back home. Why couldn't you just say 'hi' though?"

"Slytherin politics," Harry said simply.

Hermione went from looking cross to worried. "Are you alright, Harry?"

"I'm doing pretty okay," Harry said. "I just wanted to invite you two to a study group tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, that sounds like a great idea!" Hermione said. "We can use the library. I can make a schedule and-"

"Let me stop you there," Harry said, trying to sound gentle. "That's the other thing I needed to talk to you about. We've been in a few doubles classes. Have you ever seen anyone else raise their hand?"

Hermione frowned. "No, but that's how it's always been for me."

"Listen, Hermione, I can call you Hermione, right? Miss Granger makes me sound like McGonagall." He'd practiced this. A small joke to get her to relax. Hermione nodded. "I can guess you probably grew up in a school for smart kids where they encouraged class participation (in truth he suspected she did it out of a subconscious inferiority complex but he wasn't going to tell her that), but in wizarding society it comes across as disrespectful to your classmates."

"He's got a point, Hermione," Neville chipped in.

Hermione, who looked like she was about to argue, closed her mouth. She seemed to trust Neville enough to be swayed. "I had no idea. There wasn't any kind of orientation for Muggle-borns."

"Tell me about it," Harry said. "I'd be lost if Daphne hadn't told me to read this." He pulled out his copy of _Traditions of Wizarding Britain_ from his bag. "Title's a bit misleading but it covers all the basic etiquette if you want to fit in. Wanna borrow it?"

He could see the hunger in her eyes, and thought bitterly about how she really should've been in Ravenclaw.

"You're sure?" Hermione asked.

"I've already read it," Harry answered. "Just give it back whenever you finish."

"Thanks, Harry," she said as she took the book and placed it under her arm with her others. He made a mental note to see if he could get her a cheaper Bag of Holding for Christmas or something.

"So, who else is in this study group, Harry?" Neville asked.

"The people from the train," Harry said. "That alright with you? We're a bunch of Slytherins."

Neville hesitated for a bit, but nodded. "As long as that Malfoy git isn't there."

"He's not invited, but it's a public area, so no promises. Why? What'd he do?"

"He Trip Jinxed me while I was helping Professor Sprout close up the Herbology classroom."

Harry considered telling him half of the Slytherin first years thought Malfoy was a git, but decided that might have counted as 'Talking about Slytherin House to outsiders.' So instead, he nodded, and said, "He's a git, alright. Had to give him a piece of my mind as soon as I got Sorted. I doubt he'll try anything if you're in our group."

"Cool. See you tomorrow, then, Harry."

"See you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: I think there are canon clubs in Hogwarts but I'm not sure. The only one that featured prominently was Quidditch.  
> AN2: And I know it's gonna be asked because you can only read up to here so far while I have practical omniscience over the fic, but no, Willow is not meant to be as driven or smart as Harry. She just happened to actually read the first chapter of the Potions textbook, which is fair for a student who doesn't want to flunk because her surrogate aunt is a strict woman.  
> AN3: I just finished my first readthrough of Year 1 yesterday. That means I can start working on Year 2 today. Expect a small break after the last of Year 1 gets uploaded before Year 2 goes up, since I only start uploading when I've finished the draft.


	11. Extracurricular Activity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never gotten this many kudos before. Thank y'all so much.  
> Although I looked at this yesterday and I have to ask: Were you guys stalling on 68 kudos on purpose or....? 
> 
> Only kidding. Chapter 12 is coming up shortly.

Harry felt a strange sense of solemnity as he passed through the double doors of the Hospital Wing. He'd never spent a lot of time in hospitals, since the Dursleys' attitude towards his health care was to let him 'walk it off' until he could go back to doing chores.

The Hospital Wing stretched out before him, with multiple rows of beds and a high ceiling. The bright interior and relative silence combined to give him a vibe of both serenity and control somehow. It seemed to say 'Welcome, but if you disrupt the patients, you're going to be in one of these beds.'

He was pleased to note most of said beds were unoccupied. While no student had died in Hogwarts in half a century, injuries seemed commonplace.

A stern-looking woman with graying hair spotted him as he walked between the rows of beds. He recognized her from the faculty table. "Yes? What do you need?"

"Er, hi," Harry said, doing his best to look charming. It had worked on his muggle teachers (at least the ones who weren't Petunia's friends). "I'm not injured or anything, but I was wondering if I could help out."

The woman favored him with a smile. "That's kind of you to ask, but I can run this place fine on my own most days. Are you a first year? I'm Madam Pomfrey."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "You don't need anyone to help you brew healing tonics or deal with light injuries?" He really hoped she would get it.

"I'm sure. It's a nice Saturday out. Young boy like you should be out, or better, studying inside."

Time to be blunt, then. "Alright, I'll be honest. I was hoping I could get better at healing or brewing Potions if I volunteered here. I've always looked up to doctors."

That seemed to catch Madam Pomfrey's attention. "I like your enthusiasm, but healing is a delicate art. You wouldn't believe how many injuries get worse because some idiot tried to fix something they couldn't."

He layed it on thick. "But Madam Pomfrey, what if something happens and we're on the other side of the castle? Or at home? I'm not asking you to teach me anything I can't handle. Just the basics. It could save someone's life."

A haunted look appeared on Madam Pomfrey's face for a split second. _Got you,_ Harry thought.

"Oh, alright, but I'll check any Potions you make before you put them in the storage," she spoke. "And anything bigger than a scrape goes to me. You can watch, but no attempting to mend bones or other magic-related injuries. You break any of these rules and you don't get to come back in here unless you're injured. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Harry said. "Thank you for giving me this chance. Saturday mornings work for you?"

"Just come by whenever you're free and feel like it, Mister Potter," she said. "Like I said, I can handle this place fine most days."

Harry blinked. "How did you- I just realized I haven't introduced myself, and how rude that probably was."

Madam Pomfrey smiled in what could almost have been considered a smirk. "You caused quite the stir when you turned up at the Welcoming Feast alive. That, and I've tended to your father enough times to see the resemblance. At least you seem to have more sense than he did."

There was an invitation there, dangling in front of him. Harry considered it. He'd learned enough about his birth parents from the time he'd spent reading in Bones Manor. It had been a strange feeling, to read about parents he'd never known from a book about a history he'd only just learned about. He ignored the invitation, opting to focus on the present. "Well, I'll try to live up to your expectations. What should I do first?"

He spent two hours watching Madam Pomfrey mend various injuries. His initial estimation of their frequency had been wrong. People came in and out of the Hospital Wing like it was a convenience store. Potions for headaches, to help with insomnia, along with a variety of scrapes and bruises that Madam Pomfrey told him happened a lot on the weekends. Most of them left within five minutes, and cases where students needed to remain in the Hospital Wing seemed uncommon. Harry's presence provoked curious glances, but none of them struck up conversations with him.

"The incantation for the general healing spell is _Episkey,_ " she'd told him, demonstrating the wand movement on a Hufflepuff Quidditch player who'd broken his nose from a bad fall. He twitched as the spell hit home, but a moment later, his injury was completely healed. "Sit out of Quidditch Practice for the rest of the day."

The Hufflepuff had nodded, thanked her, and then left. Harry had a feeling he was getting right back on his broom.

At half past ten, while Madam Pomfrey was busy checking something on another patient, a familiar face walked into the Hospital Wing - a face that looked remarkably like his own.

"Harry!" Willow cried out as she spotted him. "What are you doing here?"

"I volunteered to help Madam Pomfrey," Harry said. "What happened to you?"

Willow held up her right hand, and Harry saw a shallow cut bandaged by what looked like a handkerchief. "Ate a Curse from some bloody Slytherin." She blinked. "No offense."

"None taken. What Curse?"

"Leg-Locker. I got caught off guard and fell," Willow said, pointing at her legs, which did look a bit rigid. "I did a _Finite_ but it didn't come off completely."

"And you walked here all by yourself?" Harry asked. "Don't you usually have an entourage?"

Willow bit her lip. "Happened in an empty hallway. Didn't want my friends to see me like this."

Harry sighed. "I understand. Come on. Let me help you get on a bed."

He took her arm over his shoulder and made sure she was comfortable. "I think we can get the cut healed with an _Episkey,_ but the lingering effects of the Leg-Locker probably require a Potion. Wiggenweld would do it, probably."

Willow sniffed. "My big brother's going to be a mediwizard. How will I ever live up to family expectations now?" she drawled.

"Oh, shut up," Harry said in good humor. "I'm the one whose younger sister is the bloody saviour of the wizarding world. Be right back. Gotta check with Madam Pomfrey if my assessment is right."

"No need, Mister Potter," the voice of Madam Pomfrey cut from behind him. "That was a good diagnosis. Five Points to Slytherin. Just don't tell anyone how you got them."

Harry smiled at her. "My lips are sealed. I'll go get the Wiggenweld from the stores."

Madam Pomfey moved to block his path. "Actually, Mister Potter, this is a good opportunity. Miss Potter, would you be opposed to letting your brother try to heal your cut?"

"Not at all, if you think it's alright," Willow said.

Harry blinked at the two of them and then took a deep breath, flicking his wand out of its holster.

"You've seen me perform the spell enough times," Madam Pomfrey instructed. "But the trick with an incantation as general as _Episkey_ is intent. You have to visualize what needs to be fixed and how you'll fix it. That's why you should never attempt _Episkey_ on internal injuries unless you're a licensed healer."

Harry nodded. Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and the makeshift bandage on Willow's arm unfurled itself, revealing the small gash. He focused on the cut, saw the skin stitching together and getting rid of it, and then he slashed his wand through the air. " _Episkey._ "

Willow flinched as if hit by a stinging hex, but their faces both sported grins as the injury seemingly vanished into thin air.

"Nicely done, Mister Potter," Madam Pomfrey told him. "And now, Miss Potter, kindly drink this."

A small vial of green tonic floated into Willow's open hand. She took it gratefully and chugged the Potion down in one go, sputtering a bit afterward. Her face looked like she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"Was that Wiggenweld, Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked.

"Of sorts," she said. "It's my own take on the recipe. Just a little Pick-Me-Up. A bit less potent than standard Wiggenweld, but you don't always need a full strength brew. You should be able to walk normally by eleven, Miss Potter."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey, and Harry."

While Madam Pomfrey saw to yet another new patient, Harry remained by his sister's side. "You should consider volunteering," he suggested.

"I don't know if I could handle it," she said. 

"Not heroic enough for you, Will?"

She snorted. "I'm just worried I'll accidentally remove someone's left arm."

"Hey, I just started two hours ago and you're alive."

"Harry!"

Madam Pomfrey shot them a look that shut them both up for a while. The clock struck eleven and Willow headed off after testing that her legs were back in working order.

Half an hour before lunch, a Hufflepuff came in with the most horrible case of acne Harry had ever seen. Madam Pomfrey ushered him to a bed. "Pimple Curse?" she asked.

The boy nodded. "One of my dormmates was fooling around."

Harry tried not to roll his eyes. "I'll get the boil cure potion, Madam Pomfrey."

She nodded, and Harry set off for the stores. He found several vials on a labeled shelf and took one, offering it to the Hufflepuff. "Here."

"Thanks," the boy said, chugging it down. His acne slowly started to recede before Harry's eyes. "You're Heir Potter, right?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't expected formality from a Hufflepuff. "Indeed. I'm afraid I don't know who you are, though," he said with no malice.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said. "Why is a Slytherin helping out in the Hospital Wing? Are you just a Good Samaritan or-" he trailed off.

"Would you believe me if I said I was?"

Justin chuckled. "If you were your sister, maybe."

Harry favored him with a smile. What a curious Hufflepuff. "Were you a Hatstall?"

"Little bit, I suppose. Hat offered me Slytherin."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "What a coincidence. Those were my choices, too." He didn't ask why Justin had chosen Hufflepuff, as he didn't seem the type to give a straight answer. "To answer your question, it's quid pro quo. I help out from time to time, and Madam Pomfrey teaches me some basic healing arts."

"That could be useful, actually."

"You interested?"

"We'll see, Potter."

"By the way, we're doing a bit of independent study this afternoon to help shore our grades up. You interested?"

The look on Justin's face was calculating. The boils were almost gone by now. "When and where?"

"Two o' clock, on the second floor. There's a public study area. I can wait for you by the stairs so you don't get lost."

"I can swing by, sure."

"Excellent. Also, if it's not too presumptuous, can I call you Justin?"

"Finch-Fletchley is a bit of a mouthful," Justin said. "Can I call you Harry?"

"Of course."

Justin left shortly after, leaving Harry alone once more. At twelve, he informed Madam Pomfrey he'd be leaving for the day.

The Hospital Wing's matron smiled at him. "Alright. Good work today, Mister Potter. Next time you come, bring your cauldron. I'll teach you how to brew Wiggenweld."

Harry gave her his thanks and walked out of the Hospital Wing with a satisfied smirk. Saturday morning well spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: Wiggenweld is a general healing potion which as far as I can tell, came from the video game adaptations. It's curative, but also restores stamina.  
> AN2: Pomfrey's Pick-Me-Up was a potion introduced in the Harry Potter Trading Card Game. There's not a lot of information on it, but in my story it's just another variety of Wiggenweld that's probably easier to make but less potent.


	12. A Peaceful Weekend

Hermione's face twisted in frustration. "Why do _you_ know the customs?"

Justin Finch-Fletchley turned to her from where he'd been conversing with Harry. His expression was polite, if not quite friendly. "My parents insisted a tutor give me a crash course on the culture before I started Hogwarts. Something about not wanting the Finch-Fletchley name sullied by ignorance."

In hindsight, Harry thought, what kind of wizard name was Finch-Fletchley? He did his best to ignore Daphne's pointed glares at him bringing not one, but _two_ Muggle-borns. At least Justin seemed to know what was up.

The study hall Theo found was wide, well-lit, and furnished with plenty of seats and tables. It also happened to be fairly secluded, separated from the main hallway by a partial wall. It might have been a public space, but the chance of anyone bothering them was slim.

"How'd you manage that?" Pansy asked. Tracey to her side also put on an air of interest. Harry didn't know how they'd gotten invited (probably Daphne), but he hoped they didn't eat Neville, Hermione, or Justin alive.

"The way you'd expect," Justin answered. "Converted pounds to Galleons, paid a witch, and Bob's your uncle."

"Uh, what?" Pansy asked.

"Muggle expression, I guess," Harry said. He really should have guessed Justin was muggle-born after that 'good Samaritan' jab. Wizards tended to have different manners of expression. "It's like the French _et voila,_ or 'there you have it.'"

Pansy idly took a strand of her brown hair and twirled it with her finger. "So, your family must be wealthy."

Harry was convinced she'd just come along to gather potential gossip to feed Malfoy.

"Not as wealthy as yours, I imagine," Justin answered. "Must we talk about me? I'd rather talk about you."

Harry watched the exchange with some interest. He liked to think he had passing charisma, but he suspected Justin had been trained in wordplay, just like he suspected Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy were. Maybe he could ask Justin to recommend a tutor over the summer. The Potter vaults could probably afford it.

Blaise gave him a look that asked 'Where did you find this guy?' and Harry mouthed 'Later.'

"Won't you tell me, Justin?" Tracey asked. She favored him with a half-smile, her red eyes seeming to gleam in the light. Harry was glad he wasn't on the receiving end. He still had no idea how she got him to talk so easily.

Justin's expression turned hazy. "Tell you what?"

"About your family."

"Oh, well, I have a mom, and a dad," Justin supplied. His words seemed to slur as he said it. "And older siblings."

Harry frowned. Was he resisting somehow? Now that he thought about it, he'd never seen Theo, Blaise, Daphne, Pansy, or even Malfoy come under Tracey's influence.

"Er, sorry, but are we here to study or not?" Hermione asked. Good old definite-not-a-Ravenclaw Hermione.

That seemed to snap Justin out of it. Tracey looked like someone had just stolen and eaten her cake, but said nothing. They went over every subject except Potions, since no one had actually brought their cauldrons.

Hermione, Harry, and Theo took the lead on Transfiguration since they'd been the ones who managed to finish McGonagall's task on their own. Theo, Daphne, and Neville took over for Herbology. Hermione, Theo, and Daphne discussed Charms, and no one wanted to talk about History of Magic.

It was Defense Against the Dark Arts where things turned a bit heated.

"I'm telling you," Theo started, pointing at the prescribed textbook. "The Ministry-approved DADA curriculum won't teach you anything, especially not the way Quirrell's teaching us."

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione asked. Harry, Blaise, and Daphne shot each other looks. Did Hermione seriously not know that she was studying with at least two scions of families versed in the dark arts? 

"He has a cousin here," Harry offered. "Right, Theo? You said she was in third year?"

Theo didn't miss a beat. "Distant relation, actually. But yeah, she told me the best way to actually get good at DADA is to read ahead. The Professor changes every year so if you just follow the curriculum you'll fall behind."

"Oh," Hermione said, brightening a bit. Apparently the lure of more advanced books trumped her reservations about disrespecting the curriculum.

"Besides Hermione," Harry hazarded. He'd never actually told her to go on a first name basis with him, but better for the others to think he had. "You've probably got the required reading memorized by now."

"She what?" Tracey asked. No one else said anything, but clearly they were all interested.

Hermione's face flushed. "Well, yes."

"Someone explain this to me," Pansy said. The time for subtlety was gone.

"You've got a photographic memory, haven't you?" Harry asked. He'd had a feeling, because she seemed to excel at everything she could master by reading, not to mention she answered questions exactly the way the books were written. The only classes where she wasn't on top were Potions and Herbology, but those required physical practice.

"I wouldn't go that far," Hermione said. "I mean I need to reread them every so often."

For the next fifteen minutes, Tracey, Pansy, and Justin alternated between picking random parts of different textbooks and asking Hermione to tell them what was written without looking at it.

"That's nutters," Tracey finally said.

The tension from when the session started diminished by the time it ended. Even Daphne, who'd done her best to ignore Hermione and Justin for most of the session, gave them courteous nods as they left. The Slytherins had let the others go ahead on the pretense that they had to be careful about their positions in Slytherin.

"So that's your play, is it, Harry?" Daphne asked.

Harry put on his innocent face, pretending he hadn't just put two Muggle-borns in the presence of people with blood purist ties. "Well, I figured it'd help if we had people who exceled in each subject, though it'd be nice to get a Ravenclaw in here."

Daphne sighed softly at the evasion. "Fine, fine. As long as she keeps working on her attitude. Did you have anyone in mind for Ravenclaw?"

"Not yet," Harry said. "I might pick Hermione's brain later to see if she remembered any Hatstalls who went to Ravenclaw."

"Why Hatstalls?" Theo asked.

"The three people I brought were Hatstalls," Harry answered. "Seems to be a sign people know how to think for themselves, present company excluded, of course."

"Just be careful not to overextend, Harry," Daphne said, not unkindly, which was rare for her. "You only get a free pass for one year."

He nodded, and that was that.

The six of them proceeded to the Great Hall for dinner. As they neared it, however, Harry slowed his pace and hung back without a word. He waited for his fellow Slytherins to step inside before he went to his usual spot.

"Willow?" he intoned. He'd spotted her waiting where they'd met the last time.

"Harry." She favored him with a smile. "Thanks again for patching me up earlier."

"No problem."

"Say, what are you doing tomorrow?"

He _was_ planning to go around trying to map the school, but instead he said, "I've got some free time. What's up?"

"Er, Hagrid invited me for tea tomorrow and I was wondering if you'd like to come."

Hagrid? Strange. Harry hadn't received an invitation, and he'd been the one who'd picked Harry up in the first place. He supposed he could spare a few hours for a social visit. "What time?"

"He said to come down any time," Willow said. "Do you know where his hut is?"

Harry frowned and shook his head. "No, actually."

"Oh. Then, meet up in the Entrance Hall after breakfast?"

"Sounds like a plan. See you then." He smiled at her. "And thanks for taking the effort waiting for me."

"Oh, I just realized Slytherin's not the only house with internal politics." Translation: It would be a pain in the arse if the Gryffindors saw me with you, too.

Harry nodded. What strange lives they led. "You go ahead, then. I'll lag behind this time."

"Thanks. I'm starving."

* * *

The Potter Twins walked towards Hagrid's Hut side-by-side. They'd considered going separately, but Willow had complained that was going too far to keep up appearances. In the end, they'd settled on walking together but taking a less direct route to minimize the number of people who'd see them. Nyx sat on his shoulder, placing all three of them under her Glamour. It wouldn't render them invisible but perhaps people wouldn't realize who they were unless they stopped to chat.

"Did you catch the look on Snape's face when you actually answered his question?" Harry asked as they walked.

Willow snorted. "I did. He looked like someone told him Christmas wasn't coming this year."

"When did you turn into a bookworm? Pretty sure you spent all summer on a broom."

"I am _not_ ," she insisted. "I just read the chapter the night before. I would've been boned if he'd asked me the Wolfsbane bit instead. Why? How much of the Potions book have _you_ read?"

 _All of it,_ Harry thought. "Well, I did spend all summer reading, you know."

"Wait, are you _actually_ trying to be a Mediwizard? Because I was joking."

Harry chuckled. "No, no. I'm _eleven_ , sis. I might be in the house of cunning and ambition, but I haven't thought _that_ far ahead. I just thought it'd be useful to know some first aid since I'm related to a reckless Gryffindor."

Willow huffed. "I am not a reckless Gryffindor, thank you very much. I haven't even approached the third floor corridor yet."

"It's the end of the first week. That's kind of setting the bar low, isn't it?"

Willow hesitated, but eventually said, "The boys have all checked it out. It's become something of a ritual for them to sneak inside. Apparently there's a cerberus behind it guarding a trap door."

"They did _what?_ "

"You sound like McGonagall."

"She's a highly-accomplished witch, so I'll take that as a compliment, thank you very much."

She snorted. "Cerberi aren't native to Britain," she explained. "Must've been imported from Greece. Myth holds them as guardians of the Underworld, but the guardian bit is real if the trap door is any indication."

"You sure you're not a bookworm?"

"Quidditch isn't my only interest, you know. Although I'm hardly an expert on magical creatures. That's why I thought I'd pick Hagrid's brain about it."

Harry gave his sister an appraising look. Madam Bones _had_ remarked that if his sister had her way, she'd have a dozen pets in Bones Manor. "So this isn't a social visit?" He smirked.

"Well, it is," she answered, looking flustered. "It's just if I happen to learn anything about what the dog is guarding while I'm at it, well," she trailed off and made a show of shrugging her shoulders.

"You'd fit right into Slytherin," Harry said.

"Except for the whole Girl Who Lived bit," she reminded him. "I'd get hexed every day."

Harry would've argued that he was friends with the son of a Death Eater, but then he hadn't been personally responsible for Voldemort's demise, so he conceded the point.

Hagrid's Hut, Harry decided, was not aptly named. A hut was supposed to be made out of natural materials like mud, rocks, or sticks. Hagrid's house was made of mostly wooden planks. It really should've been called Hagrid's Shack. He supposed 'Hagrid's Hut' rolled off the tongue better.

A garden occupied the front of the hut, though none of the flora seemed magical. They were mostly vegetables, and a considerable number of pumpkins.

"Willow!" Hagrid greeted as he opened the door, then his eyes found Harry. "Harry! Er, good ter see ya."

Harry registered the slight snub. He'd been thinking Hagrid simply tried to save on parchment by sending it to the twin he knew better, but clearly he hadn't intended to invite Harry at all. Harry had never actually read the invitation Willow had gotten.

"Hello, Hagrid," Harry said, voice amicable. "May we come in?"

"'Course! 'Course!" Hagrid stepped back to let them through. "Welcome to me home, Harry. It's small, but still roomier than yer cupboard under the stairs, eh?"

Well, he was right about that. The entire Shack (Harry resolved to call it that from now on) was a single room, with no rhyme or reason to the layout. Hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling. A copper kettle sat atop an inert fireplace. In the corner, a bed appropriate for Hagrid's large frame sat with a patchwork quilt draped over it.

"Cupboard under the stairs?" Willow repeated.

Harry offered her a thin smile. He'd told her, Susan, and Amelia even less than Blaise and Theo about the Dursleys. If the Girl Who Lived's sense of justice made her storm Privet Drive with an army of Gryffindors, Harry wanted none of the blame.

Hagrid beamed at his shack with the pride of someone who had a place to call his own home. Harry couldn't bring himself to insult that despite the snub. "It's great, Hagrid."

"Er, one sec, I need ter boil some water fer yer tea," Hagrid said. He reached for the pink umbrella Harry had seen him use on the Dursleys. He guessed Hagrid's wand had been embedded in it somehow and added 'Get a short backup wand and put it in something inconspicuous' to his to-do list.

"Allow me," Harry said as the same time Willow said, "Let me!"

They looked at each other, then Harry jerked his head towards the fireplace to tell Willow she could do it. He'd wanted to practice _Incendio_ since his wand seemed averse to the spell for whatever reason, but if Willow wanted to show her hand, then he'd let her.

"Wait, Willow, yer not serposed ter use magic outside o'-"

" _Incendio_!" Willow incanted, and a sizeable flame flew from her hands towards the fireplace. Harry had flinched, expecting such large flames to cause collateral damage, but there hadn't been any.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at his sister. "How did you - Flitwick hasn't even taught us that spell yet."

"You clearly knew it, though."

"Well, I read ahead, but that was -" he trailed off. _That was stronger than anything I've been able to pull off,_ he thought. He'd never seen the spell come out of his hands instead of his wand, either, but that wasn't the weirdest thing about it.

"I dunno," Willow admitted. "Fire shot out of my wand when I got it from Ollivander's. I got curious if that meant anything for the actual spell, so I looked the spell up. It always comes out like that. That doesn't make me a bookworm, though!"

"Er, how about some tea?" Hagrid asked.

They drank their tea peacably. Harry wasn't a tea expert. His only experience had been over the summer at the Bones' since the Dursleys never let him drink any, but Hagrid's tea seemed to have a rougher, more herbal taste than the little he had tried. "Did you make this yourself?" Harry asked.

Hagrid beamed. "I did. Been messin' round with stuff from me garden. Yer like it?"

"I do, actually," Harry said. "Any chance I could buy some off you? Would be nice for late night studying."

"Er, no, ah mean, no, Harry, yer can't _buy_ 'em off me, but if yer want a few bags, I can give 'em to yer."

Harry favored Hagrid with a smile. It wasn't even fake. "I'd like that, Hagrid. Thank you."

"Hey, Hagrid," Willow started, shooting a glance at Harry to tell him to back her up. "The boys were poking around in the third floor corridor."

"Er, ah'm jus' Groundskeeper, Willow, yer should talk ter Filch or Professor McGonagall fer that."

"Actually I was curious about what they saw. Apparently there's a giant three-headed dog in there. I've read about them but they're not native to Britain."

"'Course not. I got Fluffy off a Greek chappie in the Leaky Cauldron," Hagrid said. "I lent him ter Dumbledore ter guard der-"

Hagrid stopped. Staring at the two Potters in horror. "Ah shouldn't have said tha'."

"Fluffy?" Harry asked. "That's an interesting name. Why not go for something with a bit more bite, like 'Fang?'"

"Fang's the Boarhound," Willow told him, gesturing to the large dog that had been napping to the side in a basket. "So, Fluffy's guarding something, Hagrid?"

"Er, look, ye two are firs' years, yer shouldn't be stickin' yer nose in Dumbledore's business. Whatever's in that there trap door is between Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel."

His face paled again. "Ah really should nah have said tha'."

Harry nodded sympathetically. "Thanks for the tea, Hagrid."

He tried not to smirk, and largely succeeded. His friends might have caught it, though.

Willow shot him a questioning look, but Harry shook his head minutely. Hagrid had told them everything he was going to, and at least they had a starting point.

"Oh, righ'," Hagrid said, scooping up some of his tea into a cloth pack and offering it to Harry. Harry took it gratefully and dumped it in his Bag of Holding. He could sort it into his trunk later. He'd given Willow a pack, too, but Willow didn't have a bag on her, so Harry offered to hold on to it until they got back.

They left Hagrid's Hu- _Shack,_ Harry reminded himself - at eleven, and took the same path back to the Entrance Hall.

"Why'd you stop me?" she asked as they walked.

He glanced sideways at her. "He wasn't going to tell us any more. Have mercy on the poor man, sis. Besides, he told us plenty."

"He did?"

Harry nodded. "Nicholas Flamel is a name that appears from time to time in Muggle fiction, though not nearly as much as Merlin. He's supposed to be the greatest alchemist to ever live."

Willow's eyes widened in understanding. "Alchemy's a real branch of magic. Which means if we search the library for what the actual Flamel's accomplished we can find out what Dumbledore's protecting in Hogwarts."

Harry would have phrased it as 'what Dumbledore is hiding' but he didn't argue. It was already lucky that his sister didn't turn out to be some prat with a superiority complex born of somehow vanquishing a Dark Lord when she was a baby.

"Got it in one. You're going to search the library?" he asked.

Willow actually blanched at the prospect. "If I have to."

"I can do it," Harry offered. "My friends are all bookworms. If we find anything, I'll let you know."

"Appreciate it, Harry."

They reached the end of the secluded path and Harry brought out Willow's pack of tea from his bag. He almost dropped it when he saw something red-orange sitting on her shoulder.

"Willow, are you aware you have a Fairy on your shoulder?"

Said Fairy looked quite pleased with herself. Her dress was primarily red and orange, like a rising or setting sun. Unlike Nyx, she had a set of wings reminiscent of a dragonfly's.

Willow blinked, then stared at her shoulder. "Twilight Sparkle!" she admonished. "Why'd you take the Glamour off?"

Twilight Sparkle? What kind of name was that? Still, Harry couldn't help but be amused as Willow tried in vain to chastise the mischievous creature.

"Maybe she wanted to say hello," Harry said. "Nyx, drop your Glamour, too."

His perception didn't change, of course, since he'd known Nyx was on his shoulder all along, but Willow was clearly seeing the blue-purple Fairy for the first time since Bones Manor if her expression was any indication. The two Fairies giggled and flew to each other. They danced around in a circle before returning to their respective owners.

"This is so weird," Harry said. 

Willow nodded. "I didn't want to say anything before, but yeah. We both have snow owls, we both have fairies."

Harry studied his sister's Fairy. "When did you get yours?"

"Found her in the garden of Bones Manor when I was younger. Only Sue, Hannah, and Gretchin - you know, the House Elf - know about her."

"You, Sue, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, Hermione, and Neville," Harry said. "Are you bonded?"

"No. I tried after getting my wand, but my magic wasn't strong enough. I would've tried again but the book from the Bones library was missing."

Harry resisted the urge to bite his lip, but something tipped Willow off anyway.

"You didn't take it, did you?"

"Er, I might know what you're talking about. It's in my trunk. _Getting Familiar with your Familiar_ by _Waver Velvet_ , right?"

"You're lucky Amelia's usually too busy with her job to notice," Willow chided him. "Especially after you pretended you lost her the day before we left."

"I won't tell if you won't," Harry offered, grinning like some kind of imp.

She punched him lightly on the arm. "I'll see you when I see you, brother."

"See ya, Will."

He watched her head off, noticing her Fairy was once again hidden from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: The return of (speaking in Hagrid)  
> AN2: I started working on Year 2. Gonna be a while before it goes up, though.  
> AN3: No, I don't watch MLP. I tried a few episodes. It seems nice, but I don't like it enough to go out of my way to watch.


	13. Flying and Maneuvering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one update today. I want to post at least one every day and I'm fixing something that happens at the end of this book, so I'm slowing the pace today to give myself time to work on it.

The next two weeks passed in a blur. Harry continued helping out in the Hospital Wing on Saturday mornings, and on the second trip, Willow had taken his advice and joined him. His knowledge of basic healing magic expanded to include a spell to save people from choking plus _Ferula,_ a bandaging spell that particularly interested him for how easy it was to cast. Conjuration spells were typically advanced Transfiguration.

The study group went from meeting Saturday afternoons to meeting every other afternoon. Harry used his time at the Hospital Wing as a chance to network (it was a lot easier to get people to be nice to you if you were handling their injuries), and the group grew to include Ravenclaws Sue Li, Lisa Turpin, and Anthony Goldstein.

Harry continued attempting to perform the Bind Familiar Ritual to no avail. He spent the rest of his time getting lost in the Hogwarts corridors while trying to map them out. Clearly that wasn't a task he could do without guidance.

"Flying Lessons with Gryffindors?" Harry exclaimed as they traversed the hallway one day.

"It's like they want us to fight each other," Theo said.

Harry blinked. Maybe it was exactly that. Was Dumbledore intentionally fostering distrust between Slytherin and the other Houses?

"Actually, do we have any idea what the relationship between the Hogwarts Houses was like before Dumbledore became Headmaster?"

Theo considered the question. "You'd have to ask someone who was here and who isn't loyal to him. Maybe the portraits."

Harry nodded thanks for the suggestion. He had a lot of things he still needed to research, including Flamel and the weird message the Hat had given him about finding a chamber. He had a reasonable guess as to what Tracey was after researching magical creatures (aka asking Willow), but hadn't had the opportunity to chat with her in private yet.

He had a light lunch not because he lacked an appetite, but because the idea of _Flying_ made him a little queasy. He'd had trouble standing on top of a stool to get his robes fitted. Zooming through the air on a piece of wood didn't seem particularly enticing. He was already dreading the comparisons they'd make to his sister, who could probably live the rest of her life on a broom if she really wanted to.

_We can't be better than her at everything,_ he reminded himself. Nyx seemed to read his expression, because she ran a comforting hand through his hair.

* * *

"Up!" Harry called, and the broom flew into his hand. So far, so good. He mounted the thing, feeling a little silly as he did it. Which genius had decided the best way to fly was a thin stick between your legs? Even the Motorbike made more sense.

His stomach sank as he waited for Madam Hooch's command to kick off. It came, and Harry soared into the air like a rocket. His knuckles whitened from how hard he was gripping the broom. Fear coursed through him, then panic, and finally, strangely, peace.

He willed the broom to stop ascending, having learned that Madam Pomfrey's lesson on visualizing what you wanted applied to more than just _Episkey,_ and looked down at the students who hadn't managed to lift off. A grin appeared on his face, his Slytherin composure momentarily gone.

He'd never felt so free. He gripped the broom and willed it to do a barrel roll. Excitement washed over him, completely dispelling the fear. It turned out heights weren't a problem when he could actually control the flying.

Harry was about to try some other maneuvers he thought would be fun when Madam Hooch's whistle went off. He looked down. Neville had somehow slipped off his broom and broken his wrist. _Of course,_ Harry thought as he floated down. He'd have offered to mend it, but Madam Pomfrey had warned him against trying to mend internal injuries. Besides, Madam Hooch was already rushing Neville to the Hospital Wing.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.'" With that warning, she took the injured boy away.

Harry noticed Malfoy approaching a large, glass ball on the ground. He sighed internally. This couldn't be good.

"Hey, that's Neville's Remembrall!" someone said. "Give it back!"

_Idiots,_ Harry thought. _Now Malfoy's gonna do something stupid for sure._

He spotted Willow looking like she'd just been chosen to answer a question she hadn't studied for. Malfoy cackled and took to the air with the ball in his hand.

"That idiot," he heard Theo whisper.

Blaise didn't say anything but seemed content to watch Malfoy shoot himself in the foot.

"For Merlin's sake," Harry said as Willow's hesitation ended and she took into the air after him. "That idiot."

"You going up next?" Theo teased.

"Of course not," Harry answered. Trying to befriend his sister was one thing. Her charging into danger over a misguided sense of heroism was another. He looked to Nyx and whispered, "Do something about Malfoy, will you?"

The Fairy nodded and took off after the blond Slytherin, beneath the notice of the other students under her Glamour. It was easier for her to hide with their attention on something else.

His sister might have been acting like an idiot, but he couldn't fault her flying. She'd managed to chase Malfoy through the air, relenting only when Malfoy tossed the Remembrall to the ground. Willow dived after it, managing to catch it before it impacted and landing smoothly on the ground.

Malfoy, on the other hand, had a bit of an 'accident,' seemingly misjudging his distance to a wall and hitting it hard. He fell off his broom, crying out in pain while he clutched his right shoulder.

Nyx floated back to Harry with a mischievous glint in her little eyes.

"Miss Potter!" Professor McGonagall's voice yelled. "Come with me."

The field suddenly turned quiet except for Draco's sobbing. McGonagall seemed to notice him for the first time. "Someone, please take Mister Malfoy to the Hospital Wing."

Harry bit back a grin. It was almost too easy. "I'll do it, Professor! He's in my House."

Malfoy's goons, who'd been standing around awkwardly, looked genuinely confused as to why Harry Potter would help their boss.

"Thank you, Mister Potter," McGonagall said. "Don't think your good behavior will have any bearing on your sister's punishment."

Harry nodded and smiled thinly. "It was worth a shot, Professor."

McGonagall rolled her eyes. Hopefully that would fool everyone else, too.

He offered Malfoy a shoulder to help him walk, since he'd also sprained his foot. McGonagall took Willow elsewhere. He hoped she didn't go too hard on her, even if she had been acting like an idiot.

He ignored the glares from the Gryffindors and Malfoy's sobbing as he brought the boy back into the castle. Malfoy was delirious and didn't react when Harry pulled him into a side corridor. When he was fairly certain no one was looking, he cast a quick _Quietus._ He then aimed at Malfoy, and cast _Ferula,_ not on the injured shoulder, but on Malfoy's mouth. Thick bandages materialized, wrapping themselves around his mouth to gag him. The boy's eyes widened in outrage before Harry adjusted his grip on his injured shoulder.

Malfoy yelled, though it didn't carry very far through the gag and the silencing charm, even with Harry's magic still developing.

Harry tutted, letting cold amusement creep into his voice. "Now, see, you've gone and hurt yourself. Whatever were you thinking? It's almost as if you didn't see that wall over there."

The outrage slowly turned to realization, then fear. Harry squeezed the injured shoulder, knowing Madam Pomfrey would be able to fix any damage. Malfoy cried out again.

"You need to stop putting yourself into situations where you get yourself hurt, Malfoy," Harry spoke, his voice syrup laced with venom. "It tends to happen when you go out of your way to act like a jackass. Do you know what 'jackass' means? Nod if yes."

Malfoy had gone back to glaring, but a quick squeeze on his shoulder got him to nod.

"Good. I think from now on you should avoid certain activities that might be dangerous to your health," Harry said, smiling thinly. "Such as antagonizing my sister on purpose. Actually, while we're at it, calling me, Granger, or anyone else a Mudblood might be bad for you, too. Nod if you understand."

Malfoy nodded. Harry could see he was trying not to cry. 

"Excellent. You may be wondering why I know how to conjure bandages out of thin air," Harry said casually, as if Malfoy wasn't entirely at his mercy. "You see, unlike you, I've put my time towards more productive endeavors. I help out at the Hospital Wing from time to time."

Malfoy's eyes widened. Good. He understood, but Harry thought he'd spell it out anyway, just to be sure.

"So the next time you have an accident, you can rest assured I'll be there to help you out, old buddy, old pal. Are we clear?" Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded.

"Alright. Now, I think we should keep the gag on, don't you?" It wasn't actually a question. "Wouldn't want the other students or staff to hear the great Heir Malfoy screaming over a little accident."

" _Ferula._ " A bandage appeared on Malfoy's shoulder and wound itself around so it'd look like Harry had done everything he could to ensure his fellow student's comfort. Harry put his grip back in the proper position and hauled Draco off to Madam Pomfrey. 

* * *

Later that afternoon, Harry pored through the Library for books about Nicholas Flamel. He'd put the topic off for a bit, first focusing on finding out ways to resist Tracey Davis' hypnotism tricks and then trying to find information on anything including both "Slytherin" and "Chamber" in the same sentence. His search on that last topic had only told him of an incident half a century prior that resulted in the death of a girl. He wasn't sure how he felt about meeting a muggle-born-killing monster, so he shelfed that project for later.

Nyx tapped him on the neck - the signal for when someone was approaching. Harry's wand immediately snapped out of its holster and into his hand, but he put it down when he saw who it was: Neville and Hermione. He bumped into them occasionally in the Library.

"Hello, Harry," Neville greeted.

Harry smiled back at them. "Hey Nev. How's the wrist?"

"Good as new. Madam Pomfrey fixed it up in no time."

"Good, good. I'm no Madam Pomfrey, but if it acts up I can try to help."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Did you hear what happened with Willow?" Hermione asked.

No, he hadn't. Part of the reason he'd decided to read had been to get his mind off it. He didn't think she'd be expelled since Malfoy hadn't been, but he had worried. He shook his head.

Neville looked pale. "Hermione, we aren't supposed to-"

"The other Gryffindors aren't exactly keeping quiet about it," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "McGonagall made her Seeker."

Harry's mouth wanted to open and close, but he kept it under control. "As in Quidditch Team Seeker?"

"She'll be the youngest Seeker in centuries!"

Madam Pince, the Librarian, shot her a glare that hushed her tone.

"We're supposed to keep it a secret," Neville said. "As if anyone in Gryffindor can keep a secret!"

Harry found it difficult to argue with that when the two of them had actually approached him without prompting. "At least she's not in trouble. That Malfoy is such a git."

"He's been antagonizing her every chance he gets," Hermione said. "Can't you-"

Harry shook his head. If anyone learned he'd threatened Malfoy, his social standing would be in a world of trouble. Speaking of his social standing, he had to weigh the benefits of letting the Slytherin Team know who the new Gryffindor Seeker was versus whether or not it would harm his sister.

A matter for later. "Say, Hermione, you make any progress on what Flamel could be hiding in the third floor corridor?"

Hermione shook her head. "All I've been seeing are a bunch of ludicrous claims. The man's feats are beyond magic. They're almost miraculous."

Harry nodded. He'd thought the same. "Well, keep me posted."

That same evening, Malfoy approached Willow, his movement still a tad rigid despite Madam Pomfrey not having asked him to stay the night in the Hospital Wing.

Harry watched with feigned disinterest, wishing he knew a spell for enhancing sound. Oh well, he could ask Hermione or Neville tomorrow.

As Malfoy returned to the Slytherin table, Harry shot him a look that said 'Are you stupid?' before shrugging his right shoulder in an exaggerated manner. Malfoy paled and retreated to the safety of his two goons and Pansy.

"What was that?" Theo asked him, voice hushed.

"Hm? Oh, I escorted Malfoy to the Hospital Wing earlier, right?"

Theo nodded. Harry noticed Blaise and Daphne had stopped chatting to listen in.

"I just let him know I volunteered there sometimes," Harry said. "And that if he ever got himself hurt I'd be there to help things along."

Theo smirked. "He's lucky to have such a good friend looking out for him."

Harry snorted and went back to eating his dinner.

* * *

Back in the common room, he found Tracey sitting with Daphne and Pansy around a table. He approached, careful not to catch them by surprise, and said, "Tracey, a word?"

Daphne and Pansy didn't even look at him while Tracey just followed him out of the Slytherin Common Room, through the false wall, and towards the empty corridor.

"What is it Harry?" she asked, red eyes as mesmerizing as always.

Harry blinked and looked away. "You're impossibly captivating."

"Why, Harry, didn't you say you didn't have the hormones for this yet?"

"Your skin is paler than the moon. Your eyes have a magical color to them that makes others tell the truth."

"Harry, we're eleven," Tracey teased. "Isn't it a bit too early for-"

"I know what you are," Harry said, looking her seriously in the eyes.

Her smile brightened further. "Oh? Say it."

"You're part-Veela. You're naturally blond but you've been using magic to dye your hair black."

Tracey blinked at him, then she scanned left and right to make sure no one else was around. And then, she doubled over.

Harry frowned as Tracey rolled on the floor laughing. It was unbecoming of a Slytherin, and yet somehow he felt like he was being the silly one here.

When she finally stopped, she looked him right back in the eyes and said, "Wrong. Tut, tut, Harry. Don't you know it's not nice to guess at a girl's secrets? I think I'll get you back by ferreting one or three out of you."

"Wait," Harry said, turning away from her gaze, "I've got one I'd like to volunteer."

The following morning, he learned from Neville and Hermione that Malfoy had challenged Willow to a Wizard's Duel in the Trophy Room after their little row in the Great Hall, but that Willow had turned him down on the grounds that Malfoy was injured.

Bless his sister sometimes.

He hoped she never put together that he'd been the one to tell the Slytherin Quidditch Team (via Tracey) who the new Gryffindor Seeker was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: Knut for your thoughts?  
> AN2: Also while this entire book is going to be from Harry's POV, I think I'll experiment a little bit in the second one. Maybe not entire chapters in other people's POV but definitely some passages.


	14. Halloween

_October 31, 1991, two o' clock in the morning._

_Alliges Duplicia_

The binding of the subject.

_Famulus Innecto_

The transformation from mortal being to Familiar.

_Servo Infinitium_

Preserved forevermore.

Harry's wand fell out of his hand. His body fell forward, unable to hold himself upright. His breathing turned ragged, as if he'd been running a marathon for the past hour without rest.

_Master?_ the thought entered his mind. It wasn't his own, hadn't spoken in his own voice.

"Nyx?" he questioned.

The voice was lilting, almost song-like. _Indeed. You need only focus your thoughts on me, Master. You no longer need to move your mouth._

_Huh,_ he communicated towards her. _I guess it worked. I had a feeling when it actually took some magic out of me this time._

'Some' was an understatement. Harry had never felt so tired.

_Indeed, Master. You should rest._

"I'll do that," he said aloud as he crawled to bed. Theo and Blaise were fast asleep, and his sound ward had kept the ritual quiet.

Despite his exhaustion, Harry woke at half past five, still feeling the drain from the Familiar Binding Ritual. He hoped it wouldn't always be like this. The book had warned him it would be taxing and dependent on the size of the Familiar, but it still surprised him how much his five-inch Fairy exhausted him.

_At least it's done,_ he thought.

_Good morning,_ Nyx communicated.

_I'll need to get used to that._

_Thank you for performing the Ritual._

_Do you feel alright? There was a bit about the process that gave me pause._

The Fairy plopped down on Harry's chest, and he thought he could feel her radiating power. His power, specifically, permanently dwelling within her. _I'll admit there was a moment when I wished to back out, but I'm glad I didn't. I am now superior to my former self, and so long as you live, you can bring me back as many times as you wish._

Harry nodded. That had been part of the Ritual. Nyx's consciousness had been copied to something called the Throne of Familiars, some kind of metaphysical repository which updated in real time as long as she lived. In the unfortunate event she died, he could perform a different (and expensive and difficult) ritual to restore her to a new body in the mental state she'd been in before death.

The cost was that Nyx ceased to be a true Fairy. She was removed from the cycle of life and death, and could no longer eat, produce offspring or age. In exchange, she received a form of semi-immortality that would only end when her Contractor could no longer bring her back.

It was surprisingly reminiscent of what little Harry knew of the Dark Arts, particularly the warning that said the Binding Ritual had the potential to permanently weaken the caster's magic, although the author had mentioned it would be less likely for growing wizards whose magic would continue to develop over the years than someone whose magic had peaked.

This had been his third attempt at the Ritual, betting on something he'd read. Supposedly, on Halloween, magic had a chance to act erratic. He'd been willing to believe it, considering how the Dark Lord had accidentally killed himself on Halloween.

_Your magic's been bolstered?_ Harry asked.

_Yes. You probably never need to stuff me in your trunk again._

Harry snorted. _I'll take that under advisement. And Nyx?_

_Yes?_

_I had reservations purchasing you back in Diagon Alley. I thought making you my pet would be akin to slavery. I only got over it when I realized you weren't much smarter than a cat._

A pregnant silence hung in the air.

Nyx hummed. _And now that I'm your Familiar, and clearly a lot smarter than I used to be, you're wondering if you did wrong?_

Harry nodded.

_I am no witch, Harry. I don't claim to know anything about the Ritual you performed besides what I can feel, but I'd be willing to guess a cat or owl would be able to speak to you as I am now._

Harry frowned. He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. _Well, let me offer you this, then: If at any time you wish to leave my service, you may. I know you can never become a true Fairy again but you'd be able to live life as you wish._

_Very well, Master. But for now, you're far too interesting to leave alone. Now, I'm itching to try my new strength._

_I know just the thing._

They tested Nyx's newly-strengthened powers by having her make his eyes glow a bright green and a shadowy substance flow out from behind him while he waited for Theo and Blaise to wake up.

Blaise actually screamed and shot a Knockback Jinx at him. Harry resolved never to try that again, no matter how funny it was.

Lessons were hell. Even though he'd performed the Binding at two in the morning, his magic reserves remained low for the rest of the day. It had taken significant effort not to let anyone outside Theo and Blaise know that he'd successfully performed the Binding Ritual.

Thankfully, Charms had been simple, and even with his weakened magic, Harry was able to perform _Wingardium Leviosa_ before the period ended.

It helped that Flitwick only asked them to levitate a feather. Harry wasn't sure he could have managed anything heavier.

The Great Hall had been redecorated for Halloween. It was littered with candy-filled pumpkins, apples, black cauldrons filled with lollipops, and all manner of Halloween decorations. Harry was halfway through his Pumpkin Pie when Professor Quirrell ran screaming into the hall.

"Troll! Troll in the Dungeon!" he screamed before falling over.

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement until Dumbledore stopped it with a _Sonorus_ -enhanced voice. "Everyone, remain calm. Prefects, escort your Houses back to their Common Rooms. Professors, with me."

Harry, Theo, and Blaise exchanged looks.

"Isn't it safer for us all to be here where we can cover each other until the Troll's dealt with?" he asked.

"Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, if you've forgotten," Theo reminded him.

"Right," Harry thought. He sure didn't envy any students who happened to be alone outside the Great Hall.

As he scanned the four tables, Harry bit his lip. Where were-

"Harry!" Neville called to him, sounding quite distressed, and Harry had a sinking feeling he already knew what was going on.

"What is it, Neville?" Harry asked, ignoring the looks from nearby Slytherins.

"Hermione wasn't around for dinner," Neville said. "Ron made fun of her after Charms for being the only one able to float the feather in Gryffindor. I think she ran for the girl's bathroom."

"Did Willow go after her?" Harry asked.

"Willow? No, but I haven't seen her, either, now that you mention it."

Harry gave Theo, who'd been hanging on every word, a look. 

Theo made a face. "Why are we friends? Blaise, you coming?"

Blaise grimaced, and shook his head. "Sorry. Not interested in getting eaten by a Troll."

Harry nodded. He couldn't blame him.

"I'll go," Neville said.

"No!" Theo, Blaise, and Harry said at the same time. 

"Er," Harry said, "I mean, no offense Neville but your wandwork needs a bit more, uh, work."

"But-"

"You've done your bit," Harry told him. "Now let me do mine."

_Nyx, shroud me and Theo._

_Yes, Master,_ the Fairy responded. She'd been on his shoulder the entire time, eating sweets. Apparently no longer needing to eat didn't mean she couldn't.

_And stop calling me that. It's Harry._

"Shall we?" Harry asked.

"If we must," Theo said, though Harry knew he would've already refused if he really didn't want to.

* * *

They took as brisk a pace as they dared going through the corridors. Nyx's Glamour was neither perfect nor true invisibility, even after her strengthening. If they moved too quickly or made too much noise, they would be noticed.

She also needed to stay within a certain range of Harry and Theo to keep them under the Glamour, but thankfully, she could scout ahead far enough to warn them if they needed to take a detour to avoid a patrol.

At their pace, it had taken them ten minutes to reach the corridor adjacent to the girls' bathroom.

_Harry,_ Nyx warned. _I see it._

_Of course you do,_ Harry thought bitterly. _Is it armed?_

_A club,_ Nyx said.

Harry relayed the information to Theo, who heaved a sigh.

"You're sure you're you?" Theo quipped. "Not your sister under Polyjuice?"

"If I'm my sister, then you're Weasley."

"Oh, that's it. If that Troll gets you, I'm leaving you to die."

Harry snorted. "So how should we-"

A girl's scream interrupted him, followed by the sound of splintering wood and shattering porcelain. Harry reached the door first, his wand raised.

_Glamour whoever's inside,_ Harry commanded. _Make an illusion of Malfoy near the sink._

The Troll stood several times his height, clad in a ragged sleeveless vest and trousers. It could've been mistaken for a statue if it wasn't swinging its club at the bathroom stalls like their very existence offended it.

" _Incendio!_ " he cried out. A shower of embers flew out of his wand. It was even weaker than usual after the drain from the Ritual. He cursed his luck. Why did it have to be today?

The embers hit home, but barely seemed to harm the Troll. He had, however, managed to draw its attention. It ignored Hermione and whirled on Harry, crossing the distance faster than he expected.

_Nyx! I thought you Glamoured me!_ Harry practically screamed in his mind.

Harry threw himself outside the door just as the club struck where he'd been standing. The Troll staggered out of the bathroom, clearly unhappy at being hit by fire.

_Sorry, Harry,_ Nyx answered. _It's surprisingly resistant for being a dullard._

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " he heard Theo say, and the Troll's club flew out of its hands and into the air. Theo slashed down and the club slammed into the Troll's head, causing it to stagger backward, but that hadn't been enough.

_Nyx, disorient it!_

The Fairy darted through the air, spraying glittering powder on the Troll before it regained its balance. It wobbled like it was drunk, but managed to stay standing. 

Harry grunted, but he knew how to tip the scales a bit, so to speak. He poured as much magic as he had into the spell. " _Ferula!_ "

Thick bandages materialized around the Troll's legs, wrapping tightly around. It fell forward with a thunderous crash, but still conscious. It crawled forward, using its powerful arms to carry itself almost as quickly as if it had been standing upright.

" _Flipendo!_ " Theo yelled. A blue blast of magic sprung out his wand and hit the Troll square in the face, but it shrugged the blow off.

Harry cursed. Their magic wasn't strong enough to beat its resistance. 

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

" _Locomotor Wibbly!_ "

Their attempts at immobilizing the Troll glanced off its thick hide, not even slowing it down. They could try to kite the Troll away from the bathroom and hope Hermione snuck off on her own, but Harry didn't fancy her chances.

A blast of fire struck the Troll from the other side. Harry's eyes focused on the source and found Willow standing there, Twilight Sparkle floating beside her. She had her wand in one hand and what looked like a Muggle lighter in the other. She flicked the lighter and to Harry's amazement, the fire flew from the small metal object towards the Troll.

"Fire!" Willow shouted, her voice taking the deeper tone she used when she was doing Girl Who Lived things. "I need more fire!"

Harry glanced at Theo and the two of them yelled, " _Incendio!_ "

The Troll's thick hide finally caught fire, mostly no thanks to Harry, but it continued to crawl forward. Harry and Theo alternated blasts of _Incendio,_ but the spell was ahead of their classes, not to mention their magical reserves. They only managed two more volleys (If Harry's could even be called a volley) before feeling themselves tap out.

The Troll was screaming now, but still moving. Harry aimed his wand one more time. " _Incendio!_ "

But nothing came out. He was spent, practically a Squib at that point. Behind the Troll, he saw Willow panting. Whatever magic she was working, it was taking its toll on her, too.

" _Lacarnum Inflamari!_ " a new voice called, and Harry saw Hermione had pulled herself out of the bathroom.

The Troll's clothes and the bandages holding its legs burst into flame, and Harry watched as the flames seemed to converge, holding the Troll down as it burned to death. The smell was horrible, even worse than when the Troll hadn't been on fire.

Finally, the Troll twitched, and stopped moving.

Harry turned to his sister just in time to watch her slump forward. He rushed to her side, feeling for a pulse. He felt one.

_Good,_ he thought.

_Harry,_ Nyx communicated. _The Professors are on the way._

He nodded.

"What was that?" Theo asked, looking between the sleeping form of Willow and the burning Troll carcass.

"I don't know," Harry said. "But whatever it was, can we keep it quiet for now?"

Theo caught his eye, seemingly questioning the request, but he nodded. He wasn't a glory-seeking peacock like Malfoy.

Harry looked at the lighter in his sister's hand. It was gold, with the symbol of a Lion engraved on it. He decided to close the cover.

"Mister Potter! Mister Nott! Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall called to them. "What on Earth happened?"

"Professor! Willow got knocked out!" Harry said, sounding more panicked than he actually felt. "Do something! Please!"

A quick _rennervate_ later and Willow opened her eyes. Professor McGonagall looked at the four of them, then at the smoldering corpse. "What happened?" she repeated, her lips thin. Worry and fury warred on her face.

Harry opened his mouth, hoping Theo and Hermione didn't mess his story up.

"It was my fault, Professor," Willow spoke, weakly.

"Miss Potter?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't in the Great Hall. It's October 31st. The day when You-Know-Who killed my-" she looked at Harry, "- our parents. I wanted to be alone."

"And you three?"

"I realized my sister was missing," Harry said. It wasn't technically a lie. "I thought I could find her before the Troll did. I was ready to bolt if I ran into it, but it had her cornered in the bathroom. I planned to go alone, but Theo and Hermione didn't let me go by myself."

"Is this true, Miss Granger? Mister Nott?"

"Every word, Professor," Theo said.

Hermione bit her lip, hesitated. "Yes, Professor."

She took another look at the burning corpse, waved her wand, and the fire vanished. "Who started casting the Fire-Making Spell on the Troll?"

"I did, Professor," Harry said. It was actually true.

"Mister Potter, why did you use fire on a _Mountain Troll?_ "

Harry blinked. "Er, don't Trolls regenerate unless you hit them with fire or acid?"

"No, Mister Potter, they do not," Professor McGonagall said. "That is a misconception born of irresponsible writers. You read too much Muggle fiction."

Harry's mouth opened, and then closed. He felt right stupid.

"Very well. Twenty Points to Slytherin, and Ten Points to Gryffindor. For-" McGonagall trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. "- for saving a fellow student in need. Please do not tell your Housemates what happened here. We don't want them to start hunting Trolls for House Points."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Professor. May I take my sister to the Hospital Wing?"

"Of course, Mister Potter. Miss Granger, Mister Nott, please return to your Common Rooms."

"Thank you, Professor."

Harry gave Theo the look he did when he meant to fill him in later, and then hauled Willow off. She didn't need bandaging, which was good, because he doubted he could manage even a _Ferula_ at that point.

"Can you make it to the Hospital Wing, sis?" he asked. "I've got a Wiggenweld stashed in my trunk for emergencies, but-"

"Isn't the Hospital Wing closer than the Slytherin Dungeons?"

"Oh, right. You probably don't know. My trunk can shrink. I pretty much have it on me all the time."

"That's convenient," she said. "How much did that cost you?"

"About two hundred Galleons."

"What!?! That's my vault, too, you know."

"It is _not,_ " Harry said. "We have separate Trust Vaults. Neither of us can even access the main Potter Vault until we graduate."

"Still, Harry, two hundred Galleons!"

"What? It was money well spent. I hadn't touched my Vault since we were born."

He double checked with Nyx if they had a Glamour up, and she confirmed they did. They fell into companionable silence. Harry supposed he had to break it if he wanted to know what happened. "So, where were you, really?"

"Was in the bathroom, same as Hermione," Willow said. "I wasn't lying about not wanting to celebrate today."

Harry nodded. It made him feel a bit guilty, but not particularly. That had been a different life, and he'd long accepted he'd never see his birth parents, even before the wizarding business.

"What was that you did?" he asked. "It's the same thing you did at Hagrid's Hu- Shack, isn't it?"

Willow nodded. "I can't explain it. Ever since my magic awakened, I've had this strange fascination with fire. One day, when I was at Bones Manor, I accidentally knocked a burning log out of the hearth. Amelia wasn't home, so Sue and I thought we'd accidentally burn the house down. But somehow, I managed to coax the fire into leaving the one log and jumping back towards the others."

"So, what? You can control it but you can't make it?" he guessed. She _had_ yelled at them to give her more fire.

"Pretty much," Willow admitted. "Only Sue knows. Well, and Hermione and Nott now, I guess. Ugh. You don't think he's going to tell his father, do you?"

"I'll talk to him," Harry said, not making any promises. "He hasn't murdered any muggles in the two months I've known him."

Willow paled even more. Harry hadn't thought that was possible with how weak she was. "Oh, Merlin. I killed that Troll, didn't I?"

Harry sighed, hoping she didn't realize why he'd done it. "It was a fight. You did what you had to. If you hadn't jumped in when you did, one or more of us might have gotten killed." He shot her a conspiratory smirk. "Or worse, _expelled._ "

"I - is that supposed to be Hermione?" Willow asked.

"Got it in one."

Willow snorted. "Theo's not really a future Death Eater, is he?"

Harry made a thoughtful hum. "I can't say. If it helps you any, he's been hanging around with two Muggle-borns without calling them Mudbloods."

Willow nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Harry, were you the one who told everyone I was the Gryffindor Seeker? No, wait, nevermind. How could you have known? It was probably Ron."

"Wouldn't put it past Weasley," Harry said. It was true, of course. He didn't think Weasley could keep a secret to save his life. It was also true that Harry _had_ been responsible for spreading the rumor, but Willow didn't need to know that.

When they finally arrived at the Hospital Wing, she untangled herself from him, staggering to stand. "I'll be fine from here. Thanks, Harry."

"Excuse you. I didn't come here just for you. I need a Wiggenweld."

They shared a laugh, but he'd drink all the Wiggenweld in the world if that's what it took to get the feeling of his magic back. Now he knew why most people didn't get Familiars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: The words of the Familiar Binding Ritual were the result of me literally spending two minutes using Google Translate to find out what 'Bind' was in Latin.   
> AN2: Hopefully the drawback of the Familiar Binding Ritual is enough to explain why more wizards don't run around with Familiars, but (and I think I mentioned this earlier) besides that, the books containing the knowledge of the Ritual are rare and not exactly available in Flourish and Blotts because as Harry notes, the Ritual has some similarities to Dark magic.  
> AN3: Why was such a book in the Bones family library in the first place? Because in this universe the Bones are primarily a Hufflepuff family. I imagine an ancestor with an interest in Magical Creatures picked it up without knowing much on the subject beforehand and it just stayed there.  
> AN4: The bit about the troll not burning is a reference to how a lot of rpgs depict trolls as regenerating monsters that can only be stopped by fire. JKR's trolls aren't like that, I found out recently. I always assumed they followed the convention, but HP's trolls have more in common with Dungeons and Dragons Ogres than Trolls.  
> AN5: Am I not going to talk about Willow? No, no I'm not.  
> AN6: Flipendo is the Knockback Jinx, at least how it was portrayed in the old Harry Potter video games.


	15. Extracurricular Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized I forgot to upload anything yesterday. Sorry about that. Was neck-deep in writing Year 2.

November brought with it the Quidditch Season, and three days of living almost like a Squib finally returned Harry's magic to an acceptable level. Now he knew why most Wizards didn't take Familiars.

Harry hadn't been particularly interested in Quidditch at first, but his first flight on a broom slowly changed his mind. Initially, he'd been planning to watch just because Willow was playing and even Theo and Blaise were attending, but now he actually wanted to.

He watched the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams zoom through the air, analyzing them to the backdrop of some Gryffindor kid's biased commentary. He'd found that his years of slaving away at the Dursleys had given him some decent ability at multi-tasking, and he had a vague awareness of where each player was unless they really veered away like the two Seekers did.

Slytherin's Chasers were better, he decided after a few minutes (though he might have been biased), but Gryffindor's defense was iron clad. Between the Keeper who seemed to block half of the shots and the Weasley Terrors (It seemed that wasn't just a nickname the Professors had given them) lobbing bloody magical cannon balls at people to disrupt their plays, the Slytherin team had trouble scoring. Slytherin was leading by a bit, but not nearly enough to counter Gryffindor getting the Snitch.

And frankly, after watching Willow murder a Mountain Troll with fire, Harry was willing to bet the Girl Who Lived would get the Snitch. He shot a glance at his sister and his eyes widened like saucers. Her broom was jerking around in midair - something she'd never had trouble with before.

Theo nudged him with an elbow. Apparently, he'd seen it, too. They shot each other looks that said _Foul Play._ Theo whispered something to Tracey, who scanned the stands, making Harry quirk an eyebrow. He still wasn't sure what Tracey's non-wizard half was, but he had an idea.

"There," Tracey said, pointing at the faculty stands. Harry squinted to see Professors Quirrell and Snape seemingly muttering something under their breaths, eyes focused on Willow.

_Nyx, shroud me, I'm going to-_

_No need, Harry. Look._

He watched as someone - a Gryffindor, he thought - set fire to Professor Snape's cloak. Snape, having noticed the fire, tried to stamp it out, leading to Quirrell being knocked over in the process. Or, more likely, he thought, Snape had deliberately knocked Quirrell over making it look like a knee jerk reaction to the fire. Harry glanced back at Willow, seeing she'd regained control. And then Willow was diving down. A moment later she landed gracefully with the Snitch in her hand.

"Bollocks," Theo said.

Harry extended an open palm, and Theo deposited five Galleons. "Thanks, mate."

He saw Willow being carried away by a tide of Gryffindors and decided he didn't need to ask how she was doing right then.

* * *

"I've got it!" Hermione exclaimed during one of their study sessions.

"Got what?" Harry asked, looking up from a book he'd borrowed from the library. 

Hermione stopped. "What on Earth are you reading?"

Harry brought the book up so she could see the title: _Death Standing: A Guide to the Living Dead_ by _Hidalgo Kojimbo._ He'd gotten ahead enough of his classes that he'd started working on his extracurricular projects during study group. He shot Tracey a glance as if to say ' _Now_ I know what you are.' She smirked back at him.

Hermione read the title, gave him a questioning look, and then shook her head in resignation. "I know what Dumbledore's guarding for Nicholas Flamel."

"Well, don't kill us with suspense," Blaise quipped.

"It's the Philosopher's Stone! Probably."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. "I've read about it. It's supposed to be an incredible device that allows the user to turn metal into gold and grant eternal life."

Hermione frowned at him. "You did? Why didn't you bring it up?"

"Because it sounds ridiculous," Harry said flatly. "What kind of magical artifact does both turning metal into gold _and_ granting eternal life? Those are two completely unrelated things."

Hermione frowned, but said nothing. She seemed to see his point.

"Actually, Harry," Theo started. "There's a magic device that's literally just for making random, unbiased decisions. So it wouldn't be the craziest thing a wizard's ever invented."

Harry closed his eyes, bit his lip. He would not have an outburst over Wizards building a magical random number generator in front of Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, and Tracey Davis. He absolutely would not. He heaved a sigh. "Well, if it _is_ the Philosopher's Stone, at least we know why Quirrell wants it."

"Quirrell?" Hermione and Neville asked at the same time. 

Daphne sniffed. She'd recently stopped pretending Hermione and Justin didn't exist. "Why? Who did _you_ think was after the stone? Hagrid?"

"Snape," Neville answered matter-of-factly. "He had a limp after Halloween. He probably snuck into the corridor after unleashing the Troll. Why do you lot think it's Quirrell?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Snape _did_ have a limp, but these Gryffindors were a step behind when it came to plotting.

"Because," Theo explained, "The guy disappeared for a few years, and then he came back in the definitely-not-cursed DADA position. During the year when Dumbledore decided to keep a powerful artifact in the school."

"Not to mention," Harry added, "He was the one who told everyone about the Troll in the first place. He never went to the Hospital Wing after that. Willow and I checked."

"But Snape tried to jinx Willow's broom!" Hermione argued.

The table collectively hushed her. Bloody Gryffindors.

" _Quirrell_ jinxed Willow's broom," Tracey told her. "Willow only regained control when Snape accidentally knocked him over. I don't know what Snape was doing, but it's likely he was doing a counter-jinx."

"But he hates you and your sister," Hermione protested.

"And my sister and I don't particularly like him," Harry said. "But we've been doing well in Potions, and I think he's slowly starting to see whatever grudge he has against us is misguided."

"Besides," Justin said. "The man's been teaching here for years, despite clearly not enjoying it. Whatever reason he has for being here, it didn't just magically pop up this year."

The Ravenclaw girl Harry had recruited some time ago, Lisa Turpin, spoke up. "Okay, I get why the _Slytherins_ are that way, but why are _you_ like that?"

Justin smirked. "The Hat offered. I just didn't want to be the poor Muggle-born sucker who went to Slytherin."

"We need to tell the Professors," Hermione said.

"They're clearly already aware," Harry drawled. "You think Snape is following Quirrell around on a whim?"

"But-"

"Go tell McGonagall if you must," Harry said. "I'm sure she'll just tell you something about how Professor Quirrell is a trusted member of the faculty et cetera et cetera et cetera."

Hermione looked like she was about to protest, so he cut her off before Daphne or Pansy did.

"Look, Hermione, you clearly aren't cut out for this plotting business. You're a talented witch and you could probably learn it at some point, but this isn't a good time for practice."

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but they'd been in class together enough times to know what she looked like when she knew she shouldn't argue with someone who knew better. He kindly asked her to inform Willow about the stone, since he'd promised to keep her abreast.

* * *

_Do it again,_ Harry requested.

_As you wish, Harry._

He felt the now-familiar pull of phantasmagoria as Nyx blasted him with as much of her magic as she was willing to. The empty classroom rippled before his eyes, and he soon found himself staring at a class filled with copies of himself in their underwear.

_Very funny, Nyx,_ he thought.

_You never said **what** to subject you to._

He'd finally cracked and asked Justin how the hell he was resisting Tracey's gaze, and the Hufflepuff had simply recommended a book called _Mind Tricks_ by _Obi Wan Kenobi,_ which Harry was fairly certain was a pen name. Or at least he _hoped_ it was. That would've been far too weird otherwise.

He concentrated. The book said Occlumency was all about recognizing foreign influence and shutting it out, but for beginners, it was enough to focus on something else so the opponent couldn't get at the information they wanted.

_I still don't think this will work,_ Nyx said dryly. _You've been trying this for days. Fairy magic isn't the same as whatever the Tracey girl does to you._

_You never know until you try,_ Harry answered. _And I'd rather practice this way than with Tracey._

He closed his eyes, breathed, and recognized the copies of him doing the can-can in their underwear were not real (which admittedly was not difficult). He opened them again and they were gone.

_See? My Glamours don't even faze you anymore,_ Nyx complained. _You're not going to get better at swimming by walking around in the shallows._

Harry stared at her. _Where'd you pick that one up?_

_Fortune cookie._ She stuck out her tongue.

Harry shook his head. She was starting to develop an attitude, which was good because it reassured him she still had free will, but he worried it'd cause problems one day.

She had a point about him not learning Occlumency this way, though. So he flicked out his wand to practice some spells from the Second Year curriculum.

" _Avis!_ " he incanted, and a murder of ravens appeared. He gave them a mental command to fly towards one of the empty desks, and they did.

" _Avis!_ " A trio of chickens appeared in front of him, and then swiftly fell to the ground. Harry winced. He'd forgotten they tended to appear in midair by default. He could control what kinds of birds would appear by visualizing, but he found he produced greater flocks of smaller ones.

An ostritch was beyond him, as was any bird magical in nature, as he'd found out when he tried to conjure a Dodo, which Willow informed him was actually a magical creature called a 'Diricawl.'

He commanded the ravens mentally to split up, each occupying a separate desk, and then he practiced the Growth and Shrinking spells.

He'd just finished growing a chicken to the size of a four-year-old boy when the door clicked open. Harry immediately snapped his wand towards the intruder. He was sure he'd locked it with a _Colloportus._ Nyx had put a Glamour to make the door look like a wall, too.

He found himself face-to-face with the Weasley twins, each carrying a cauldron filled with a sack of Potions ingredients.

"Bloody hell," they said as they spotted the giant chickens and miniature crows.

"Ickle snakey Potter's been busy," one said.

"We were wondering who was using our favorite empty room."

"Should've guessed it was you, Harry."

Harry snorted, lowering his wand. There wasn't much he could do if two third years tried to attack him anyway, not that he thought they would. "Are you two why this place smelled like rotten cabbage yesterday?"

"Why Harry," one twin said.

"Are you implying that the two of us," the other continued.

"Were up to something?"

"We never."

Harry rolled his eyes, but grinned. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

"Because of ickle Ronnykins?"

"As if." 

"Our brother's just being a prat, as usual."

"We've just been busy."

"So, what've you got over there?" he asked, indicating the Potions kits. He'd never heard of the Weasley Terrors being good at Potions.

"A little extracurricular project."

"Much like yours, we reckon."

"Heard you've been helping brew Wiggenwelds."

"We tend to brew more fun things."

Harry nodded. "That's just to get in brewing practice. I've never tried making something original before."

"Well, you shouldn't."

"Brewing original Potions without a license is dangerous."

"Not to mention illegal."

"Could get you in all sorts of trouble."

They grinned at him.

Harry smirked. "Of course, of course, but hypothetically, what kinds of things would you two make?"

"Pranking is our passion."

"So what we'd make should be obvious."

Harry nodded. He knew that much. "So, how about I accidentally misplace twenty Galleons that you happen to find? You keep quiet about _this_." He gestured to the birds. "And you keep me informed about what happened with the money you happened to pick up."

They grinned at him as one. He wondered if he and Willow would have been like that if they'd grown up together. The thought frightened him more than it should.

"You were never here," one said.

"But maybe you could do something about the poultry farm?"

"We could do it, but-"

"Vanishing someone else's magic is a bit harder than cancelling your own."

" _Finite!_ " Harry incanted, and the birds ceased to exist. He pulled twenty Galleons out of his Money Bag and placed it on the teacher's desk. "Have fun, boys."

He remembered something as he was about to step out. "By the way, you've been here three years. You know any other good places to do extracurricular projects?"

The twins communicated with each other using their quiet twin telepathy, and then nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: References galore.  
> AN2: Taking a small liberty with the Avis spell here. Supposedly, Conjuration is a very difficult branch of Transfiguration, but the wiki page says Avis and Serpensortia are the easiest spells in that branch. And since Draco can canonically cast Serpensortia in Year 2, I figure a dedicated First Year can summon smaller groups of birds if they kept practicing at it.


	16. Christmas

Harry,

I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize for not writing more frequently, but I considered how I'm not technically your legal guardian and decided keeping correspondence would be unprofessional. 

If I assumed wrong, say so, though I must warn you my work with both the DMLE and the Wizengamot keeps me busier than most. Willow tells me that the two of you have gotten along swimmingly despite your tentativeness during summer. I'm happy for you both.

She had her reservations when you got Sorted into Slytherin, but I reminded her I work in Law Enforcement and Slytherins aren't even resposible for half the things I deal with.

Speaking of which, I regret to inform you that I have business over the Holidays that will be keeping me busy. As such, the only ones in Bones Manor will be you, Susan, Willow, and Gretchin if the three of you choose not to stay in Hogwarts over the holidays. I'd recommend the three of you talk it over and decide as one.

Amelia Bones  
Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

* * *

Harry re-read the note just to make sure he'd gotten everything relevant, and resolved to talk to Willow about it. He was inclined on staying, because Amelia not being home meant the Ministry might bust him for underage magic if he practiced in Bones Manor.

He tucked the letter into his Bag of Holding for safekeeping. Better than his pocket and not as cumbersome as taking his trunk out for every little thing. He'd done a survey of whom among the study group would be staying for the holidays. Neville and Hermione were both out. So were Justin, Daphne and Pansy. Theo and Blaise, surprisingly, were staying, for different reasons. Theo's father had something private to deal with and Blaise's mother (whom Harry learned was a beautiful witch who'd had many ex-husbands die under mysterious circumstances) had a prospective fiance coming over.

A small part of him wondered if those two things were connected, but he quickly snuffed the thought away. Ignorance was bliss until it got you killed. It was the same reason he never asked what happened to Theo's mother, but he could put two and two together. There'd been a war. The Death Eaters had lost.

Tracey was staying as well, which put Harry in a good position to try out his occlumency. If he dared. At least there wouldn't be many people she could share his secrets with.

Seeing how few people were around, Harry asked, "Hey, Theo. How come Daphne doesn't hang around with you and Blaise as much? I was under the impression you three were close."

They'd all been on a first name basis before meeting Harry, after all.

His friends shot each other a glance, then Theo said, "Why else does Daph do anything?"

Harry caught the hint about propriety and social standards. "We're kids."

"Maybe, but it doesn't hurt for her to practice. Being the lone girl in a group doesn't look good," Blaise answered. "I mean _we_ know Daph would hex our balls off if we tried anything, but she has to keep up appearances, being a Greengrass and all. Besides, you haven't exactly helped your standing in Slytherin by being buddy-buddy with three Gryffindors. She did warn you not to overextend, Harry." 

He nodded. He had to concede that part. Well, he had half a year left to do something about it.

* * *

Lessons got dull as Christmas approached. Harry had gotten far enough ahead that he could probably stop attending study group and still maintain decent grades at the end of the year, but he hadn't come to Hogwarts to play. That, and he had a feeling if he stopped coming, the group would eventually dissolve.

Things got exciting again when Neville had yet another Potions mishap that ended with half the class needing to go the Hospital Wing. A bright light had exploded from Neville's cauldron, rendering everyone who looked at it directly (mostly Gryffindors) blind.

"Fool boy!" Snape snarled. "You're supposed to put the Acorns _after_ the Fairy Wings."

It was a lecture Harry took note of. His Saturday mornings helping at the Hospital Wing lent him a growing understanding of how brewing worked. He didn't dare experiment on his own like Fred and George did, at least not until he was older, but Neville's accidents were providing him with a list of interesting alternate uses for his Ingredients. Funny how doing a Potion slightly out of order often made something that did the opposite of what it was supposed to.

His own Potions had gotten good enough that Snape stopped looking at him like he wanted to poison him. Willow was doing decently, especially for a Gryffindor in a class under Severus Snape. At least she never managed to melt her cauldron.

He caught her in the dungeon corridor after class. "Will, a word?"

"She doesn't want to talk to you," a voice that could only belong to Ronald Weasley said.

Harry sneered. "Weasley. Charming as usual."

"Oh, come off it, Ron," Willow said. "What is it, Harry?"

Weasley glared at him but thankfully kept his mouth shut.

"You got Amelia's letter?"

Willow nodded. "Sue and I are planning to stay over the holidays. You?"

"Same."

"I'm staying too," Weasley cut in.

Harry rolled his eyes. "What's the matter, Weasley? Your parents decide they have too many of you at home?"

"Harry!" Willow scolded.

Harry heaved a sigh. "I'll see you around, then, sis."

A Stinging Hex nailed him in the arse as he walked away. Harry held himself back from screaming by biting his lip. He tasted blood.

He whirled on Ron, wand at the ready. He noticed two other Gryffindor boys (Finnegan and Thomas, Harry thought their names were) had stepped in to back Weasley up. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Theo and Blaise approaching, wands drawn.

Harry scoffed and pretended to mutter something under his breath.

_Nyx._

Suddenly the red-head and his friends were screaming about snakes wrapping around them. They ran down the corridor, still yelling at the top of their lungs and trying to fight off serpents only they could see.

Harry snorted and made a show of tucking his wand back in its holster.

Willow shot him a disapproving look. She knew what he'd done, of course, having a Fairy of her own.

Harry shrugged, resisting the urge to massage his aching arse. He hadn't started it. They were lucky he hadn't sent them to the Hospital Wing. He liked Madam Pomfrey too much to needlessly add to her work.

* * *

Harry awoke early on Christmas morning, though that wasn't rare. He still found himself waking up before the sun most days - a result of having to cook breakfast for the Dursleys.

What _was_ rare was to find Theo and Blaise already out of bed. He blinked. _Nyx, where are Theo and Blaise?_

_They went up a few minutes ago. They seemed excited. Something about presents._

Harry hummed in thought, shrugged, and went to the bathroom to shower.

By the time he'd gotten up, the Slytherin Common Room was uncharacteristically loud and cheerful. Streamers in Christmas colors hung from the walls, and there was even a short tree with ornaments that fit despite the low ceiling. It gave the Common Room a surprising warmth to it.

Edward Carter, the male Prefect who'd oriented them on their first night, grinned at him. "Rise and shine, Potter. You can drop the posturing for today. It's bloody Christmas."

Harry had to grin at that. He found Blaise and Theo already in the middle of unwrapping their presents. 

"You couldn't have waited for me?" Harry asked, feigning hurt.

"Like you ever wait for us to get up," Theo shot back. "Happy Christmas, Harry. Your presents are over there."

Theo pointed at a stack. Harry blinked. It hadn't sunk in until then that he was actually getting presents. He'd never had presents before. _Because we've never had friends before,_ he reminded himself.

 _Harry, it's really weird to hear you talking to yourself, just so you know,_ Nyx commented.

 _Bloody eavesdropper,_ he said with no bite.

He took a seat, cast _Wingardium Leviosa,_ and let his presents come to him. The stack was smaller than Blaise or Theo's, but still. Presents! For him! Of course, he'd already gotten his friends presents. He wasn't dense. Being able to read people well enough to know what he should get them was a Slytherin quality. It was good practice for bribing people later on.

"Show-off," Blaise said, smirking.

"Happy Christmas, you git," Harry said.

"Happy Christmas, you prat."

He'd gotten Theo a set of the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy after Theo expressed curiosity towards the Muggle fiction Harry always went on about, and gotten a book called _Getting Even More Familiar_ by _Waver Velvet_ in exchange. Theo shot him a warning look to not let Amelia or any of the faculty see him with it. Harry nodded gratefully.

Blaise, Harry realized while he was picking out presents, had actually managed not to let any of his interests slip over the past year, which left Harry with only one recourse: Him, Harry had gotten a basket of fancy sweets. If Blaise had been older, Harry would've considered sending him a stack of adult magazines, but alas. Blaise had gotten him a bottle of hair product that would tame the wild strands on his head. He'd smirked when Harry thanked him, but Harry genuinely appreciated it.

He'd gotten Hermione a few third year school books to sink her teeth into, partly since he figured she was probably conscious of her Muggle parents' spending. She'd gotten him a bunch of chocolate frogs.

Neville had been easy: A copy of _Fantastic Flora_ by _Pamela Isley_ (which Harry really hoped was a pen name). Neville had gotten him a Remembrall, which he happily placed in his trunk. It was a nice thought, but not something a Slytherin wanted to be seen with.

Willow got him a book about Fairies, which was surprisingly thoughtful. He got her a wand holster like his own, but with a fancy engraving of flames on it. He'd been thinking of getting her a Bag of Holding, but he could save that for her birthday. Those things weren't cheap.

He'd essentially exchanged sweets with Hannah, Lisa and Sue. He could forgive himself for those since they weren't particularly close.

Justin he'd gotten a wand holster, too, but with the initials J.F.F. on it. Justin had gotten him a bunch of muggle clothes that Harry was pretty sure cost more muggle money than he'd ever had. Those would be useful if he ever needed to do anything in the muggle side of Britain.

Tracey he'd gotten a notebook that would appear blank to anyone but her. She'd gotten him a pack of gel pens enchanted to look like quills, for which he was bloody grateful. Writing with quills looked elegant, but damned if it wasn't a a pain in the arse.

He got even more sweets from Pansy, whom he'd gotten a fashionable but unenchanted leather bag.

Daphne had been difficult. She'd never expressed any interest in muggle things, so his options had been cut significantly. In the end, he'd gotten her an unenchanted buttefly brooch in Nyx's colors, after remembering her remark on Nyx during the train. She sent him several articles of clothing by _Carriage,_ which gave him pause. The store hadn't been cheap. At all. He made sure to cast detection charms on the clothes before trying them on, in case they were a trap. He was even more baffled when they turned out not to be.

He'd have to thank her and Justin personally after the holidays.

Amelia he'd sent the same box of fancy sweets as he'd given Blaise, since he had no idea what to give the head of an ancient and noble house who also possessed a seat on the Wizengamot. She, on the other hand, had sent him a book on rudimentary healing magic called _How to Save a Life_ by _Fiona Nightingale._

Apparently Willow (or Sue, he supposed, but doubted it) had been writing her about him.

He'd received two other unexpected presents: The first, a wooden flute from Hagrid which made him feel guilty for forgetting to buy the large man anything, especially after the tea he'd been gifted before. He resolved to rush order a muggle cookbook with lots of vegetables and give it in person under the guise of a surprise.

The second gift was a fifty pence coin from the Dursleys. He'd been tempted to mail them a concoction based on Neville's latest Potions accident, but relented. Azkaban sounded like a bad place to spend the rest of his life.

After breakfast, Harry tracked Tracey down to test his theory. He asked her to follow him out, like before.

She'd giggled at seeing him. "Harry, are you going to make a habit of cornering me? I might have to go to Snape about this." 

Harry snorted. "I just wanted to say Happy Christmas and thanks for the gel pens. Quills are bloody murder."

She grinned at him, sharp canines coming into view. "Is that all?"

Her red eyes bored into his green ones, and Harry once again felt that strange compulsion to trust this girl, to tell her everything. This time, however, he'd been exposed to Nyx's magic enough times to see the outside influence.

"Well, that and I wanted to tell you what big teeth you have," Harry said with a smirk.

Tracey blinked. "Not you, too! Why is everyone in Slytherin with any secrets worth a damn a bloody Occlumens?"

Harry smirked. "You could always try Malfoy's goons."

"Crabbe and Goyle?" Tracey huffed. "Please. Like those two have anything in their heads, let alone anything worth siphoning out."

"Is that what their names are?" Harry asked. He'd never bothered to find out. "Malfoy seems to hold them in confidence."

Tracey's eyes seemed to glitter. "You think? I didn't think he'd be that stupid, but," she trailed off.

"Never know until you try."

"Words to live by," Tracey said in a more cheerful mood. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas, Tracey."

* * *

"Carter," Harry said, nodding respectfully.

"Potter?" the Prefect answered, unable to hide his surprise. 

Harry had waited until most of the Common Room cleared out before approaching him. They were alone next to the hearth with the snake mantelpiece.

"Er, Happy Christmas. Sorry if this is forward, but I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?" the Prefect sneered. Harry was fairly sure only a Slytherin Prefect would sneer at an underclassman, though he couldn't blame him. He probably thought Harry needed help with something on Christmas.

"Do you happen to have a muggle relative who runs and owns a bookstore in Little Whinging?"

Carter blinked. "That's a bit out of the blue, isn't it? But no. My family's Pure-blood, and none of us live anywhere near Little Whinging."

Oh. "Thanks. Sorry for wasting your time."

"Carter's kind of a common last name, don't you think?" the Prefect said. "Kind of like Potter."

Harry couldn't disagree with that. Carter gave him one last appraising look, then motioned that Harry could go.

The silver key hanging around his neck felt warm, which was a blessing with the December chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: Since the personalities of Theo, Blaise, and Daphne are kind of based on Sarcasm and Slytherin's take on those characters, I had a really hard time coming up with presents that fit better, so I mostly didn't.  
> AN2: I did make the gel pens come from Tracey instead of Hermione because I figured Hermione probably doesn't think about individual Christmas presents very much and Tracey is Half-blood.  
> AN3: The remaining chapters except for the last two are about this length. Because I'm really bad at pacing and so the final two chapters are almost double the length of these ones LMAO  
> AN4: I apologize for the bad formatting on the letter from Amelia. Having a hard time getting AO3's text input to match what I wanted to happen.
> 
> Edit: Wow it's my first edit update. Thanks to Shadow for pointing out I forgot to have Amelia and Harry exchange gifts, which was unintentional. A paragraph has been added before the bit about Hagrid's gift.


	17. The Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update today. Power went out. During quarantine, yes. Smh.

Over the Holidays, Harry spent time hanging out with his friends when he wasn't practicing second-year spells on his own. Fred and George had come through on his request and shown him a secret chamber behind a portrait of a lake on the third floor. Tracing the lake's surface with your pinky finger (and _only_ your pinky finger) caused the portrait to swing open, revealing a space slightly smaller than the average classroom.

He'd found only a dusty couch inside. He'd have to start sneaking furniture in at some point. Possibly by shrinking them with _Reducio._

He was heading back down from the Lake Room (name pending) when he saw a door seemingly open and close by itself.

_Nyx, cover me._

_Already did, Harry._

_Thanks._ He cast an Unlocking charm on the door only to see it wasn't locked. That actually made him more wary than if it had been. 

His curiosity got the better of him. He cast _Quietus_ as he pushed the door open. It made no sound. Inside was a large, ornate mirror with what looked like words carved into the top. 

Standing in front of the mirror were Willow, Susan, and to Harry's distaste, Donald Weasley.

"You see?" Willow's voice spoke. "Right there. It's my parents! And Harry, and you, Sue, and Amelia."

"I- I see myself holding the Quidditch Cup," Donald said. "And I'm Head Boy!"

Harry frowned at the last word on the mirror: _Erised._

It didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"Blimey, Willow, do you think this mirror shows the future?" Donald asked.

Okay, maybe it took _some_ level of intellect to figure it out.

"How can it, Ron? My parents are dead." Willow turned to Sue. "What do you see, Sue?"

"Pretty much like yours, Will," she said. Her voice was impassive. "Slightly different people."

Harry nodded. She'd lost more to Voldemort than he and Willow had.

"How come you two see dead people?" Donald asked.

Harry's self-control snapped. "Because our families are largely dead, _Donald_ ," Harry drawled. "Our desires are a little less materialistic than yours."

Harry hadn't even seen his, but he was pretty sure it had more depth than a few school accolades.

Donald made a noise like a strangled rodent and fished for his wand in his pocket. Willow snapped hers out of the holster Harry had given her.

"Harry!" Her face softened. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long, sister." He sauntered over to the mirror. "Mind if I have a look?"

"Not at all," she said. The three of them, even Weasley, stepped aside to let him see.

He hadn't expected to see his parents, of course. He'd cast that pipedream away when he thought they'd only died in a car accident. Instead, Harry saw himself, older, wearing nice robes. Willow, Theo, Hermione, Neville, Blaise, Daphne, Justin, and Tracey were by his side. Malfoy was in the background wearing a butler's uniform.

The sight tugged at the edges of his mouth, pulling it up to grin.

The pull coming from the mirror reminded him of Tracey's vampiric allure, and he jerked his head to the side to look away. If he had his way, nothing would ever mess with his mind again.

"Occlumency, Harry?" an ancient voice asked. "At your age?"

Harry whirled on it, his wand already out of its holster. He found himself starting into the twinkling spectacles of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry blinked, pretended confusion to buy himself a few seconds. He had a feeling Dumbledore hadn't just asked because of the mirror.

"I dabble," Harry said. "Not many extracurricular options for First Years."

"But I hear you've found a way," Dumbledore said, not unkindly. "Poppy tells me you've been a great help in the Hospital Wing."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Poppy?"

"Oh, my apologies. Madam Pomfrey. I forget you and your friends are sticklers for the old etiquette."

He wasn't wrong, but Harry honestly hadn't known Madam Pomfrey's first name. "Er, no, she never told me her first name. What are you doing here, Headmaster?"

"Oh, I like to walk around the Castle when I'm free," he said, eyes twinkling at them behind his half-moon spectacles. "I've been Headmaster for many years, yet I still find new things from time to time. Why, just yesterday, in my time of need, I found a toilet I'd never seen before. I looked for it again today and never found it."

Harry studied the Headmaster. Behind the affable front, this was the man who'd ordered him taken to the Dursleys. He'd put off trying to rationalize why Dumbledore had thought putting him with an abusive Muggle family would be safer than the protection of Bones Manor (although admittedly, said protection had done little to stop Voldemort, though Harry would have taken his chances with them than the Dursleys), but seeing the man himself here, those thoughts resurfaced.

"And Mister Weasley's desire is not as shallow as you'd think, Harry," Dumbledore said. "What he actually desires is the culmination of his older brothers' achievements."

Harry shot a glance at Weasley. A sibling inferiority complex? Funny how differently he was handling it than he was. He turned back to Dumbledore. "Mister Potter."

"Er, no. You're Mister Potter. I'm Mister Dumbledore."

"Exactly, Headmaster. We haven't spoken nearly enough for you to be calling me by first name. You said it yourself: My friends and I are sticklers for the old etiquette."

He didn't miss the implication that Dumbledore had been keeping an eye on him without his notice.

Dumbledore smiled behind his great white beard. "Well, if you insist. Do tell me when we've reached enough words for me to call you 'Harry.'"

"Of course, Headmaster."

"Headmaster," Willow began. "This mirror - does it show us our heart's desire?"

"Indeed, Willow," Dumbledore said. "Men have wasted away before it, not knowing if what they have seen is real, or even possible. It is dangerous, so I will be removing it from this room after today."

On that, Harry could agree. He'd felt the mirror's pull even through his scuffed Occlumency, though what such an artifact was doing in a place of learning for children in the first place, he had no idea.

"What do you see, Headmaster?" Willow asked. 

Bless his sister sometimes.

"I see myself holding a pair of nice, woolen socks. I have so many books, but one can never have enough socks."

Harry blinked. There was no way a man with such a colorful career who'd played a major part in two wars could only dream of socks. He'd probably lost many friends over his lifetime.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," Dumbledore went on. "Now, off you go. Children like yourselves should be out enjoying the Holidays."

The four of them left the room, and Harry decided to walk with them partway down, at least. He'd rather they didn't see him enter his new private chamber. He wondered how much trouble he'd get in if he moved his bed there. Then again, the room had no bathroom.

His three companions were still discussing what they saw in the mirror and the Headmaster's words of warning when Donald said, "Hey, wait a minute, what did you see, Harry?"

Harry sneered at him. "Myself with your sister." He could hardly remember what the youngest Weasley looked like from their brief introduction at the party, but Ron's face after he'd said that, he'd remember forever.

"You slimy git!" Ron yelled, pulling out his wand.

"See you later, sis," Harry said, and then Nyx covered Ronald's vision in spiders. He laughed while Willow and Sue tried to convince Ron he was seeing things.

Harry hoped Donald never learned Occlumency.

* * *

The holidays ended sooner than Harry thought they should. The Hogwarts Express brought the students back from their families. He personally thanked Daphne and Justin for the clothes like he'd told himself he would. This had earned him a smug smile from Justin and a thin one from Daphne. The latter also said something about how he should dress better if he intended on being seen with her in public.

Harry had made an exaggerated bow in front of the Ice Princess of Slytherin that put her back into cold glare mode.

Things were as they should be.

Classes continued as usual, except Snape had one day arrived upon the brilliant epiphany that he should pair Harry and Neville together.

"Perhaps you'll fare better working with Potter," Snape had said, and essentially dumped Neville on him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Neville squeaked out when Snape wasn't looking.

"It's alright," Harry said, putting on a beatific smile. "I was actually wondering how to talk to you about offering help with Potions."

That had been partly a lie, of course. Neville's accidents had been an excellent source of new ideas for the use of Potions ingredients. Still, he supposed he couldn't let his friend fall behind forever. Theo basically swapped with Neville and now worked with Hermione. Blaise was still stuck with Millicent Bulstrode, who reminded Harry of a female Crabbe and Goyle more than anything else. At least she didn't seem bound to House Malfoy like they were.

They worked through the class together. Fortunately, the Potion they were meant to brew that day was Wiggenweld - a Potion Harry probably could've brewed in his sleep.

At one point, Neville's Cauldron began to belch purple smoke. Harry blinked, partially curious what effect it would produce, but not nearly enough to let it blow up in his face. 

"Salamander blood," Harry said, barely looking up from his own brew. "You need to add more."

"But the board says-"

"Your fire is too hot. Your Potion went from Indigo to Violet. The Salamander blood will mostly fix it. Trust me."

Neville hesitated a moment, afraid to do anything Snape hadn't explicitly ordered. Eventually, though, his trust in Harry won and he managed to bring his brew back to a respectable state.

Harry finished his Wiggenweld Potion a bit earlier than the rest, even with a fraction of his attention taken up by Neville. His brew was a brilliant turquoise, better than his usual result using the Hospital Wing's stores. Neville's was green, but Harry knew it would still work, if a bit less effectively. It looked a lot like his first few attempts.

He contemplated asking Snape if he could bring his brew up to the Hospital Wing for bottling instead of having it Vanished. It seemed like a waste.

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said after Snape had taken their vials for grading. "You're bloody brilliant at this stuff."

"It's just practice," Harry said. Humility wasn't a Slytherin value, but neither was preening like a peacock. "I've brewed more Wiggenweld this year than any other Potion combined. I'm nowhere near the proficiency I want to be at with other Potions."

"You're nuts, you know that?"

Harry shrugged. "So is Dumbledore."

In the end, Harry had worked up the nerve to request if he could bring the remains of his Wiggenweld up to be bottled. Snape had inspected the brew, nodded, and awarded five points to Slytherin for initiative.

Harry couldn't say Snape wasn't biased, but then, half of the other classes seemed reluctant to give Slytherin any Points. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw could deal with it.

* * *

He, Theo, and Blaise were reading quietly in his favorite corner of the library one afternoon when Nyx called his attention.

_Harry,_ Nyx spoke.

_Yes, Nyx?_

_Your friend Neville seems to be looking for you._

Harry looked up from _Getting Even More Familiar_ with a groan. He'd been in the middle of figuring out how to make his spells automatically target Nyx even if she wasn't in his line of sight. Sure enough, Neville looked anxious, and there was no reason for his friends to come to his corner unless they were deliberately looking for him.

Harry nudged his friends, and they looked up to see Neville. They gave each other looks before silently agreeing it seemed important.

_Let him see,_ Harry thought, and Nyx dropped the Glamour around him.

Neville almost jumped. "Bloody hell, Harry. Why do you always have to be invisible?"

"Usually it's so I don't get interrupted," Harry quipped. 

"You seem distressed," Theo said.

"Indeed. What can we do for you, Neville?" Blaise asked.

"Er, it's- Well," Neville trailed off, his eyes glancing between the three Slytherins. Harry had a bad feeling. He hadn't seen Nevile like this since the incident with the Troll.

"What is my sister turning her brain off for this time?" He swore. 

Theo shook his head. "I've never seen an actually intelligent person act so dumb before."

Harry was inclined to agree. Privately, of course.

"Er, can you put up that spell where no one can hear what we're talking about?"

" _Quietus,_ " Harry incanted. "There. Now. What is my sister up to?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: You know, originally, I had Harry casting Muffliato instead of Quietus because I forgot that was a Snape spell, but thankfully a friend caught it early.  
> AN2: If anyone's curious, Year 2 is progressing slowly but surely. Definitely not gonna finish in time to post right after Year 1 ends. I'm only like 20% done with it right now. Probably not even 20% actually because I have so many plans for Year 2, though I have surprised myself before. The first chapter of this fic was written on March 30 and the entire first draft was done by April 9. We'll see.


	18. A Debacle with a Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't own Harry Potter, but someday I'll have all six infinity stones.
> 
> I haven't found any yet, but as long as I'm alive, there's a chance.

A _dragon._ Harry wouldn't have believed it if it wasn't Neville, a Gryffindor who lacked any cunning whatsoever, telling him about it. 

"Does Hagrid not know dragon breeding is illegal?" Theo groaned, not caring about appearances with the silencing charm in place.

"T-that's what Ron said," Neville told them.

Great. Even _Donald_ had realized how stupid that was. 

Neville went on. "Anyway, Malfoy was spying on us, and Willow decided we should smuggle the dragon out before Hagrid gets sacked."

At risk to herself, of course, and not just her. Hermione, Neville and Donald had gotten roped in, too. Neville then explained the plan to get the dragon, Norbert (leave it to Hagrid to name a dragon the most ridiculous thing) to the astronomy tower in a box, and then for the Dragon-expert Weasley's friends to bring it to Romania by broom. There was supposed to be rain that night, so they'd have partial cover from prying eyes.

Harry had doubts about the safety of such a traveling arrangement, but if the dragon experts said it would work, who was he to argue?

Neville finally finished, saying, "She asked me to ask you what you thought about her plan. She said you were better at planning than she was."

"Your sister is going along with this, _why?_ " Blaise asked.

Harry sunk his face into his hands, silently asking Nyx to make the four of them Hard-to-Notice again. "Because she loves all magical creatures. And because she thinks the Girl Who Lived should go out of her way to do heroic things. Have you forgotten about Halloween already?"

Theo paled and shook his head. The two of them had told Blaise a version that didn't involve his sister inexplicably commanding fire.

"You should be fine, though," Harry said. "Willow has her Fairy."

"And her Invisibility Cloak," Neville said.

Harry inclined his head. "Her _what_?"

"Er, her Invisibility Cloak," Neville repeated. "She got it on Christmas, apparently. Just the Cloak and a note that said it belong to her- er, your father. I guess she didn't tell you."

Harry took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. Wasn't _he_ the eldest son here? Wasn't _he_ the one who'd had to deal with the Dursleys for ten years?

 _Dumbledore._ It had to be. Harry shook himself, tried to apply his Occlumency training to shut the anger out for now. He could unleash it later. On something inanimate somewhere no one could see him.

His lips curled into a venomous smirk. "Then I guess you've got nothing to worry about. Good luck, Nev."

Neville looked like he'd just swallowed a vial of poison.

As the three of them headed back to the Slytherin Common Room, Theo and Blaise quickened their pace to match Harry's anger-boosted strides. 

"So, are we gonna tell Snape?" Theo asked.

Harry didn't answer. He was tempted. Dumbledore was showing blatant favoritism at this point. So what if he hadn't been the one to kill Voldemort? He was the older twin, dammit. He'd lived like a slave except for the times he could escape to the book store.

But getting his sister expelled was a bit much. It wasn't like she'd _chosen_ to be the Girl Who Lived. Not like she'd _asked_ Dumbledore to give her preferential treatment. She was as much a victim as he was, albeit in a different way.

"It would be a large boost to our standing," Blaise offered.

And Harry knew that. He knew selling his sister out would probably earn him the favor of the entire House. He was reminded of how the One Ring tempted Frodo countless times on the journey to Mordor. Here was an opportunity, practically offered up on a silver platter.

He _could_ tell Snape. His sister would get in trouble, yes, but he honestly doubted Dumbledore would allow the Girl Who Lived to be expelled. Hermione and Neville, on the other hand…

Weasley could go, as far as he was concerned, but his only non-blood allies in Gryffindor being expelled would hurt, both emotionally and socially. It would seem like his gamble to recruit them hadn't paid off. They were almost in second year. In another half year, Harry would be fair game to the older Slytherins.

He still hadn't made his decision when they entered the Common Room. Well, he hadn't, then something made it for him: Draco Malfoy loudly proclaiming how he'd gotten hold of Donald's letter to his brother.

* * *

They tracked Hermione down in the library right before dinner.

 _Reveal yourself to Hermione then nudge her towards our corner,_ Harry told Nyx, who darted off to do his bidding.

It took her nearly three minutes to get Hermione's attention and then to get said witch to follow her to Harry's corner.

Harry was sitting with his back to the wall, one leg raised over his other. His fingers were steepled in front of him like he'd been waiting for her (which he had been). Theo and Blaise flanked him on their own seats, doing their best to look intimidating.

"H-Harry?" Hermione asked.

" _Quietus,_ " Harry incanted, and the silencing screen fell upon them again.

"What's going on?"

"You and Potter have put me in a difficult position, Granger," Harry drawled.

"No. Did Neville tell you-"

Harry nodded. "Longbottom was right to inform me. You see, Weasley's correspondence with his brother has somehow found its way into Malfoy's hands."

"W-why are you acting weird?"

Harry ignored her. "I'm here to tell you your plan won't work."

"W-why not?"

"Didn't you hear me, Granger?" Harry asked dryly. "Your plan's been compromised. I have a better one."

"Why would you help? This is a trick, isn't it?"

 _You have no idea._ Instead, Harry said, "I don't want to see her expelled, nor you, nor Longbottom. Weasley I wouldn't lose sleep over."

"Alright," she said, thin-lipped. "I'm listening. But I swear, if this is a trap, I'm going to-"

Harry raised an appeasing hand. "Malfoy knows all about the Astronomy Tower. You should flee in the opposite direction, instead."

"Where?"

"The Lake. Have the Dragon Handlers take the Dragon in a boat across. They can slip into Hogsmeade and take a Portkey or something."

Hermione seemed to consider the plan, then finally agreed. Harry had her repeat it to him, and she did, verbatim as expected. She really did have an almost-photographic memory.

"Also," Harry said, "If anyone asks, you, Neville and Willow aren't on speaking terms with me right now. Say the three of you had a row with me over something I said about Hagrid."

"Slytherin politics?" Hermione asked, looking worried.

"I was very specifically told not to help my sister out in any way, or the Quidditch Team would use me as a bat for Bludger practice. In fact, I'll be skipping Study Group for the next week, to keep up appearances."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said.

He nodded. "We can make up publicly next week." He waved her goodbye.

_Nyx, maintain the Glamour until we get out._

Anyone who'd bothered to notice the little exchange in the corner would've seen three second year Gryffindor boys talking to Hermione Granger. If they paid extra attention, they would have noticed those three boys disappearing as they passed the corridor, with Harry, Theo, and Blaise appearing a short distance away.

* * *

"So, I just slip this into Snape's office?" Blaise asked, holding up a little note as they prowled the dungeon corridor.

Harry nodded. He'd set it up so Snape would be too late to actually see the dragon, but be just in time to see four Gryffindors out in the rain past curfew.

"And your sister's invisibility stuff?" Theo questioned.

"Nyx assured me Fairy Glamours, at least the ones normal Fairies can cast, don't work so well in the rain," Harry said.

"Won't your sister know that?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't know until I asked Nyx, and last time she checked Willow hasn't performed the Binding Ritual with her Fairy yet." He refused to say 'Twilight Sparkle' aloud on principle. "The two of them can't talk, unless my sister has some insane ability to speak to animals."

"So you're saying there's a chance?" Theo asked.

Harry shrugged. It was such a small chance that it wasn't worth building their plan around it. "The bigger issue is the Cloak. That one, I don't have a countermeasure for. Their only chance is if the rain isn't as strong as predicted. How accurate are wizard weather forecasts?"

"I don't know. Nine out of ten?"

Harry nodded. "I'll take those odds."

"You're really okay with this?" Blaise questioned.

Harry gave him a look. "Weren't you the one talking about social standing earlier? As far as I'm concerned, I just saved her from getting expelled. If she happens to lose Gryffindor a few dozen points in the process, then I hope she learns to stop turning her brain off for this Hero business."

* * *

"Potter!" the enraged bellow rang through the Slytherin table. A few Slytherins let their masks slip to find the source. Even several Ravenclaws, usually too absorbed in their own conversations, turned to look.

Harry raised his head with a studied calmness. He'd played this scene in his head a few times. It seemed prudent, seeing as how he'd caused it.

"I know it was you!" Malfoy yelled.

"You're being awfully loud awfully early," he said, with unconcealed irritation.

"You helped your sister, didn't you?"

"I haven't spoken to my sister since the Holidays," he said. That part wasn't even a lie. "We had a falling out over some disagreements about Hagrid. Still waiting for her to apologize, in fact."

Harry realized he was disclosing an awful lot of information compared to how he normally acted around other Slytherins. Someone perceptive might've caught it, so he decided to throw a curve ball. "What exactly are you screaming about?"

"The dragon!" Draco hissed, his voice admittedly a little softer. "You tipped her off. She should've been expelled. The oaf should've been sacked! I knew the Hat made a mistake putting a Blood Traitor like you in Slytherin!"

And there it was. Time to play his hand. He hoped it was good enough.

"You _are_ an idiot," Harry said, with no hint of amusement. "They saw you spying on them, you dunce. Did you really think they were going to go with their original plan?"

Draco blinked. Good.

"My sister and Granger might be reckless, especially when it's 'Hero Time,' but they're not _stupid_ ," Harry drawled. "For Merlin's sake, Granger has better grades than you or I do. Did you honestly think she would fall for such a stupid trap? And for your information, I did not let them get away. Have you seen the Hourglasses?"

He jerked his head towards the House Point counter near the faculty. Gryffindor had lost far more than he'd estimated they would. It was taking a lot of willpower not to look too happy about it.

"They need a miracle to win now," Harry said. "All because _someone_ actually acted with cunning instead of being a - well, a Gryffindor."

 _Nyx, make me scary,_ he requested. _But not too much._ He had no idea what she'd do exactly, but Malfoy's widening eyes told him it was working. The problem with Occlumency, he'd found, was that you had to be aware of the mind manipulation. It was bloody difficult if you were flustered.

Malfoy squeaked. "H-how dare-"

"I couldn't fathom it, you know," Harry went on, buttering his toast like it was any other day. "You knew where they were going, you could have gone to Snape or McGonagall immediately. Instead, you wanted to be there when it happened, for the _glory_. And what did that get you? Nothing. Oh, wait. It actually _lost_ us twenty house points."

"But if my plan had gone on-"

"Yes, yes. If your plan had gone without a hitch, Granger, Longbottom and Weasley probably would've been expelled. Hagrid sacked, probably, or thrown in Azkaban. But if you honestly believed for a minute that Albus Dumbledore would expel the Girl Who Lived, you're a bigger idiot than I thought."

"Then, why-"

"I spent the year cultivating allies in other Houses. How do you think I found out what the new plan was in the first place? But that's besides the point. The _point_ is your plan _didn't_ go without a hitch," Harry said, still not looking at the boy. "You're clearly not very good at plotting if you can't adapt to changes on the fly. I suggest the next time you practice, you do it with lower stakes."

Malfoy's face turned beet red. His anger was overwhelming his fear.

"And _Draco,_ I thought I cautioned you at the start of the year," Harry spoke, turning his eyes towards the boy. "To stop putting yourself in situations where you're likely to get hurt. I wouldn't want to see my best buddy in the whole wide wizarding world in the Hospital Wing."

"I- I'll keep that in mind, Harry," Malfoy said meekly. He'd have to ask Nyx later what kind of Glamour she'd projected.

Harry blinked. He hadn't meant to give Malfoy permission to call him by first name. He'd meant that as a snub. Oh well. He'd done his best.

"Nicely done, Potter," one of the second year boys whispered to him. Harry nodded his thanks. He had no idea who that was, but he'd make a point to ask Tracey later.

The other first years except Malfoy's crew were eyeing him with newfound interest. If this didn't put him in Slytherin's good graces, he didn't know what would.

* * *

He waited for Willow in the usual shadowed spot near the Great Hall two days later. He'd heard about the scuffle she and everyone else who'd gotten detention had gone through the previous night. Something about a dark creature feeding on unicorns in the Forbidden Forest.

"Harry." Willow didn't smile. Malfoy had been so loud that the rumors of his plot had spread all the way to Gryffindor.

"Here," he said, handing her _Getting Familiar with Your Familiar_ by _Waver Velvet._ "I heard you got caught because your Fairy's Glamour failed."

Willow blinked at him, not touching the book. "Is it true?"

"Which part? That I told Hermione where to go or that I got you caught on purpose?"

Willow bit her lip.

"Yes, and no," Harry lied. "I did tell Hermione the Lake would get the dragon, er, Norbert, out of Hogwarts. I _did_ tip Snape off that Gryffindors might be out after Curfew to keep up appearances, but Hermione told me you had an Invisibility Cloak so I was almost sure you'd get back in alright."

His sister winced. "I forgot it at Hagrid's. Don't give me that look, Harry. I know I screwed up. My House hates me now."

Harry steeled himself. He wanted to comfort her about how the Cloak probably wouldn't have been enough in heavy rain, but that would've tipped her off. "They'll get over it. What are they gonna do, shun the girl who's won them three hundred points in Quidditch altogether? The girl who vanquished the Dark Lord?"

"But the others-"

"You made a mistake," Harry said. "This is school. Be glad you're making it here and not out there. Here, all you get is a few pissed students and professors."

She looked at him for a long time before finally accepting the book. "Thanks, Harry. You're sure you don't need it more than I do?"

"I already bonded with Nyx," he admitted.

"Oh. Nice." She bit her lip.

Harry felt a headache coming on. "What is it, sis?"

"I learned something when I was in the Forbidden Forest," Willow confessed.

Harry braced himself. "Go ahead."

"Harry, he's alive," Willow said, her voice serious. "Voldemort is alive."

Harry could have screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: Again, a lot of similarities to Sarcasm and Slytherin (Sorry, sunmoonandstars) but I really needed this scene to play out this way for the narrative to go where I want it to, and I like having Harry juggle his loyalty to Willow and his need to get ahead in life.   
> AN2: We are on the final three chapters of Year 1. Might be a slight delay to the final chapter as I edit it to suit my purposes for Year 2, but should still be up sometime this week.  
> AN3: I considered changing this up by having Harry get detention and go to the Forbidden Forest trip, too, but it just seemed really inconsistent with Harry's smooth operator character in this.


	19. How to Deal with Your Dark Lord

Harry stormed off in the direction of Snape's office. He needed to have a word with Dumbledore, but he had no idea where the Headmaster's Office even was. His mind worked a mile a minute as he considered how to get Snape to agree to take him to Dumbledore.

HP: (Serious) Professor, I need to speak with the Headmaster.

SS: (Sneering) What for, Mister Potter?

HP: I've recently learned that the man who killed my parents might still be alive and after the Philosopher's Stone.

SS: (Pretending not to be surprised) How do you know this?

HP: I have my sources.

SS: (Back to sneering) The Stone is under the protection of several Hogwarts Professors. Unless you think you are somehow superior to the faculty _and_ Dumbledore, I suggest you leave this matter to the adults.

HP: But, Sir-

SS: (Haughty and condescending) I knew your getting Sorted into my House was a fluke. Now, run along, Mister Potter.

Harry stopped in his tracks, turned on his heel, and decided to ask Professor Sprout if she could tell him how to get to the Headmaster instead.

* * *

"Lemon Drop," Professor Sprout said, and the ugly stone Gargoyle stepped aside to reveal a staircase leading upwards. He never would have guessed that one.

He gave Professor Sprout his best childlike smile. "Thank you, Professor. I think I can take it from here."

The old witch smiled fondly at him. "Of course, Mister Potter. You're one of my best students. I hope the Headmaster can help with your problem."

Harry maintained the smile as he walked up the staircase. He'd fed her a line about having nightmares of Voldemort (which led to her visibly flinching) and how they were keeping him up at night. He'd said he would've gone to Snape, but that the Potions Master frightened him a little. That part hadn't entirely been false.

 _Hufflepuffs,_ Harry thought.

 _Indeed,_ Nyx answered, though she was nowhere near at the time. He'd had her stay in his dorm just in case Dumbledore could somehow see through her Glamour.

The Headmaster's office was both what he expected and not at all what he'd thought it would be. Dumbledore's penchant for appearing mad was in place, though he hadn't predicted _how._ A variety of objects littered the office, seemingly with no rhyme or reason other than to make noise and confound visitors. He also saw the portraits of past Headmasters on the walls. Naturally, they moved and spoke, like all other wizard portraits.

"Mister Potter!" the Headmaster greeted amicably. "Welcome. What can I do for you? Would you care for a Lemon Drop?"

The Headmaster offered Harry a silver canister filled with yellow gummy candies covered in sugar. Harry shrugged and took one. Dumbledore already knew he was an Occlumens of sorts. He wouldn't try anything as obvious as Veritaserum-laced candy.

" _Oh_ , that's good," he begrudgingly admitted. "Forgive my rudeness, Headmaster, but is it alright for you to be eating candy at your age?"

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Well, let's just say I'd appreciate it if you kept this a secret from Poppy. Now, what is it you wished to speak with me about, Mister Potter?"

"Is Voldemort alive?" Harry asked, straight to the point. He hoped the suddenness would overwhelm Dumbledore's Gryffindor-level of emotional control.

"I would ask how you came to know this, but I expect you would somehow make it appear like you answered the question without actually telling me anything. I try my hand at subtlety and plotting, but alas, I have no talent for it."

Harry inclined his head. No need for pretenses, then. "Why didn't you tell us there was a Dark Lord plotting our demise?"

"Because you are a _child,_ Harry," Dumbledore said.

"That's Mister Potter for you, Headmaster. And my sister is also only a child."

"Your sister defeated Voldemort once before, where even I could not. She may be the only one who can."

"And I'm supposed to just go about my days like some Dark Lord isn't out to kill us?" Harry asked. "While you groom Willow into some kind of saviour?"

"I do not believe Voldemort would be interested in you besides as a hostage," Dumbledore said calmly. "And you would be safer within these walls than anywhere else."

Harry almost licked his lips. He scented blood in the water. "So you _didn't_ send me to the Dursleys for my protection. You lied to Hagrid."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes faded, but his voice remained the same. "When your mother died to protect your sister, she placed a powerful protection on you both. Her love for you became a shield so strong that not even the Killing Curse - normally unblockable - could harm you."

Harry mentally filed away 'Killing Curse' for later research. "And this has _what_ to do with the Dursleys? They're all Muggles. They hate magic. In fact, they're probably the kind of people Salazar Slytherin was so angry with in the first place."

"I didn't know they would be so cruel to you, H- Mister Potter," Dumbledore corrected himself. "I know you might never forgive me, but I am sorry."

"The funny thing," Harry said icily, "Is that if you'd said that at the start of the year, perhaps explained - and don't think I haven't noticed you dodge the question - _why_ I had to live in an abusive household for ten years, you might have gotten to me."

"Mister Potter?"

"No more verbal gymnastics, Headmaster. Why did I have to live with the Dursleys, if not for my own protection? What can you tell me about Voldemort other than he's alive and probably after the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Very well, Mister Potter."

"I believe we've spoken enough for you to call me 'Harry,'" he said, to keep Dumbledore off-balance. He hadn't particularly cared, anyway. He'd just felt like being petty at the time.

The old man smiled. "Harry, then. I placed you under the care of the Dursleys because the magic your mother performed on you both is ancient, unused in many years, and technically illegal."

Harry nodded. He'd suspected as much. None of the books he'd read even hinted about such a spell.

"In order for its power to be maintained, you need to spend a certain length of time with your mother's blood relatives every year to renew it. It doesn't have to be both of you, and I thought it might have been asking too much for the Dursleys to take on two children."

He didn't need to ask why he'd been the one sent to rot. His sister was the saviour, not him. Still, he begrudgingly admitted it had worked out better this way. He didn't want to imagine what Vernon or Dudley (not to mention Dudley's friends) would do to a defenseless girl. Not that he would ever say that out loud.

"Hang on," Harry said, finally catching it. "You're saying I have to go back _every year_?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so, Harry, unless you're fine with your blood protection fading permanently. I suppose we could send your sister, instead, but-" Dumbledore trailed off.

He knew Harry would never allow it.

 _Sly devil,_ Harry fumed internally, but kept his face as impassive as possible. "What about Voldemort? What can you tell me?"

Maybe if he killed Voldemort for real this time, he could spend his summer in peace. And if not, he'd take death over Privet Drive.

"He's but a shadow of his former self," Dumbledore said. "He wields but a fraction of his former power, but he is still dangerous."

"And the Philosopher's Stone will restore him?"

Dumbledore nodded. He didn't bother acting surprised Harry knew about it. "Most likely."

"That's easy, then. Destroy the Stone."

"I cannot."

Harry blinked at the old man in front of him. Dumbledore's ploy to get him to go back to the Dursleys had temporarily made him forget he was a Gryffindor. "Explain," Harry almost hissed.

"The Stone is the only one of its kind, Harry," Dumbledore said. "And it has been placed in my keeping by Nicholas Flamel. It is beyond my ability to destroy. Only Flamel knows how."

Harry seriously doubted that. Some things didn't add up: If Flamel invented the stone, then why couldn't he just make another one after the danger passed? Also, what was with this 'it can only be destroyed in the fires by which it was forged' bollocks? No, Harry suspected Dumbledore had another reason for guarding the Stone and refusing to destroy it.

He moved on, knowing Dumbledore probably wouldn't speak any more of the Stone. At least not anything useful. "One final thing, Headmaster."

"What is it, Harry?"

"How long do I need to stay at the Dursleys'?"

"I'm not sure."

Harry stared at him, unwilling to spend the entire summer there. He hoped Dumbledore got the message.

"A month should be plenty."

Harry chewed his lip, then nodded. A month was certainly easier than ten years.

"Well, this has been an enlightening conversation, Albus," Harry drawled. "You've give me much to consider."

Dumbledore blinked, but then smiled, seeming to think it a sign Harry was willing to cooperate. "I'm glad I could ease your burden, Harry, if only a little."

"Good day, Albus." He turned to leave and head back down the stairs.

* * *

Harry thanked his lucky stars he'd been reading ahead. The news of Voldemort's existence had thrown all thoughts of studying for end-of-term exams out of his mind.

He was sitting in the Lakescape Room (name still pending) with Theo and Blaise after he'd tidied the place up a bit and snuck in chairs from nearby classrooms.

He'd decided he wasn't quite ready to share his new room with his other friends yet. Hermione and Neville had believed his line about not knowing they'd be caught, and that a Slytherin he couldn't identify to them had actually been the one who tipped Snape off. They also had a rather poor track record for keeping secrets.

Justin would've been the next friend he trusted to be able to keep a secret after Theo and Blaise, but interaction between Slytherins and Hufflepuffs outside bullying were scarce. In other words, Justin _could_ keep secrets, Harry just didn't know him well enough to know if he _would_. Tracey had been friendlier with him ever since he'd finally let her know he knew she was part-vampire _and_ that he could resist her mind magic.

Pansy still seemed to be in Malfoy's camp despite his numerous mishaps. Harry suspected an arrangement between the Parkinsons and the Malfoys, but Theo hadn't been willing to confirm, which more or less confirmed it.

Daphne had been friendlier, but since that was actually an untested friendship despite their early interactions during summer, Harry decided not to let her in yet, either.

"I've been spending the past year conjuring chickens and trying to figure out what Tracey is when I should have been learning to protect myself and my sister from a Dark Lord," he said, sounding exasperated.

"Mate, you're eleven," Theo reminded him. "What're you gonna do? Sic an army of chickens on him?"

He'd asked Theo if _he_ knew about the Dark Lord being alive. The boy had been surprisingly forthcoming in telling him not even his father was sure Voldemort was still alive, though that might have been because Harry had been in a foul mood.

Harry was about to make a biting retort when an epiphany hit him. " _Avis!_ "

Four chickens appeared, this time safely on the ground. He'd learned from his previous mistake.

"I was kidding," Theo said, turning his nose up at the sudden presence and scent of poultry.

But Harry wasn't listening. Ancient magic had been the downfall of Voldemort - something he hadn't anticipated because no one covered it anymore. He dispelled the chickens, focusing. _Older,_ he thought, _more ancient._

" _Avis!_ "

This time, only three birds appeared, not the domesticated chickens people used for meat and their eggs. These stood a bit taller, their crests red and their feathers dark, with wild glints in their eyes that said they could cause bodily harm if he wished.

"Harry?" Blaise asked, sounding nervous though most people wouldn't have picked up on it. "Why do your chickens look like they're going to murder someone?"

Harry grinned, dispelling the magical constructs again. He wondered how far he could go with this.

The answer was: not very far. The more ancient the bird he conjured, the more magic it took out of him for each one. He'd gone from four chickens to three wild junglebirds to two slightly larger junglebirds and finally peaked at one flightless bird with sharp teeth in its beak.

"Harry, what in Merlin's name is that? It looks like someone crossed a bird with a dragon." Theo said. He'd been watching Harry's conjurations with growing fascination. "I thought it was difficult to conjure magical birds with _Avis._ "

"I have no idea," Harry admitted. He had the makings of a headache from overexertion of magic. "And it's not magical, just really old. Some ancestor of the modern chicken that's probably extinct. Not sure. Not an expert on prehistoric animals."

He'd known birds were descended from dinosaurs, of course, and that had been his thought when he'd started his little experiment, but summoning one sharp-toothed bird that couldn't fly didn't seem worth it when he could just conjure up a snake with _Serpensortia_ for a fraction of the effort.

Said bird's feathers shimmered bright green in the dim light, standing tall enough that its crest was level with Harry's waist. It was simultaneously fascinating and disappointing.

 _I guess I'm not going to kill Voldemort with an army of dinosaurs,_ he thought. Oh well.

"How did you know about it, though?" Theo asked.

Harry snorted. "Muggle science. They discovered ages ago that birds are the closest living relatives of some carnivorous dinosaurs. I figured if I willed the _Avis_ spell to summon me an older bird, I'd eventually get something nice and sharp-toothed."

"I mean, it qualifies," Blaise offered.

Harry inclined his head. It was true. He'd conjured a very pretty bird with sharp teeth. "Hardly much use against a wizard, though."

"Depends," Theo said, looking thoughtful. "How fast is it?"

Harry willed the bird to run laps around the room as fast as it could. It was impressive, for something with only two legs. He supposed if it had more space and needed to make less turns it could go even faster.

"A pack of these might do some damage," Blaise said. "I mean, look at those talons. And those teeth."

"Problem is I can only make one at a time, and even _Avis_ gets tiring if done over and over, especially used like this. Besides, they're not dragons. No magic resistance. Maybe if I ever have to fight something that isn't a wizard."

"Harry, I think you're looking at this wrong. You're a _first year_ ," Blaise said. "How many spells do you have that could rip someone's throat out like that thing could?"

Harry thought about it, and conceded the point. "Just the one, I think."

"What about snakes?" Theo asked.

"What about snakes?" Harry asked back. He was tired.

"You're off your game today."

"Sod off. I just learned the Dark Lord is coming to kill me and my sister. I get a gym pass from verbal gymnastics for the day."

"I meant what if you tried doing this, but with _Serpensortia_?" Theo clarified.

"Oh. That's easy. Giant snakes," Harry answered. He saw Theo's eyes widen a fraction. "I doubt I could do it, though. Between them being gigantic and extinct, the spell would probably need more power than I could produce for years. Not to mention they wouldn't be magical. It'd just be a huge target that even a first year could probably fight off."

"It was a good idea," Blaise said in consolation. He glanced at the prehistoric bird still running in circles. "Imagine setting that thing on Weasley."

Harry brightened at the thought, if only a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Harry only gets one Familiar probably. I don't want him turning into a Pokemon trainer.  
> Also me: The Avis and Serpensortia spells.


	20. One Does Not Simply Kill a Dark Lord

Despite the new sense of doom tugging at his mind, Finals breezed by like nothing. Harry barely paid attention during the written exams, confident he'd learned enough over the year and then some to score full marks, though Theo reminded him after that First Year was deliberately dumbed down so that Muggle-borns could adjust.

He was starting to think he'd been paranoid about Voldemort coming to kill his sister when Professor Snape stopped him as he was exiting the Slytherin Common Room.

They walked in silence until Snape veered away from the path to the Headmaster's office and towards his own without a word of notice. Harry tensed, but kept following. If Snape wanted to harm him, he was screwed anyway.

He followed Snape into his office, which was a sparsely-decorated room with uncomfortable chairs. Snape sat down. Harry followed suit.

"I admit, Potter," Snape said, voice neutral. "When the Hat put you into Slytherin I thought it was some cruel cosmic joke at my expense."

Harry said nothing.

"But you've proven you're not your father. I see you've even been dressing better," Snape continued. "I suppose you have your friends to thank for that. Perhaps you'll be a proper Slytherin yet."

Harry nodded. Leave it to Snape to make a compliment sound like an insult. Ever since Christmas, he'd taken to wearing the clothes Daphne had gotten him and styling his hair with the product from Blaise. "Thank you, sir."

"The Headmaster tells me you've spoken with him," Snape said, voice still impassive. "About your _living arrangements_ "

"I have, sir."

"So you've already been informed why you need to return, even if only for a month."

"Yes, sir."

There was a pregnant silence. "Mister Potter, I've been Head of Slytherin for many years now, and I'm aware that among the four Houses, to the surprise of the others, Slytherins are the ones who tend to have… interesting family lives."

"I imagine so, sir." He did. It made sense. He had a feeling if his parents had been alive, they'd have given him hell for getting put in Slytherin.

"You see why I wished you'd spoken with me first instead of going straight to Dumbledore via Professor Sprout," Snape said, the hint of a sneer in his tone. "I am no stranger to providing students with assistance in such matters."

Harry fought back the urge to wince. He hadn't thought Snape a potential ally for that particular fight.

His Head of House read his regret all the same. "Next time, Mister Potter, consider putting your faith in a fellow Slytherin rather than a Hufflepuff with no idea what's going on."

"Yes, sir. I'll keep that in mind."

Snape pulled his drawer open and pulled out what looked like a popsicle stick. He slid it across the table.

"What is this, sir?" Harry asked, not touching the wooden object until he was told.

Snape nodded, seemingly satisfied Harry didn't simply take it. For all he knew it was a Portkey into a volcano.

"It is a last resort," Snape said. "If you find yourself in need of… intervention, break this stick and I will arrive as soon as I am able."

Harry stared at the offering. He didn't want to depend on Snape. He'd treated Harry fairly enough, but he'd given Neville hell during Potions. Admittedly, Harry's Potions skills had improved from Snape needling Neville into comitting accidents, but still. He decided it would be stupid not to take it, so he did, sliding it into his Bag of Holding. "Thank you, sir."

"Do remember, Mister Potter," Snape drawled. "That Slytherin is a House that values Ambition and Cunning. I hope you don't forget this over the summer."

Translation: If you use the stick, my respect for you goes back to zero.

"Understood, sir."

"Now, come along, Mister Potter. Your presence is needed in the Hospital Wing."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at that. Had there been an incident Madam Pomfrey couldn't handle alone?

* * *

The incident, it turned out, had been Willow, Hermione, Neville, Ron and Sue squaring up against Quirrell-mort in the third floor corridor while Dumbledore was conveniently away in London.

He walked over to Willow's bed. His sister looked glum, but at least she was conscious. He thought her lightning-bolt scar looked a bit redder than usual, but he could've been imagining it.

"Will?" He sat down beside her on the bed.

Her face went from frowning to a small smile. "Harry."

"What happened?" he asked, letting the concern show on his face.

"You'll think I'm an idiot."

"I'll be the judge of that, dear sister."

She sighed before relenting, telling him about how they'd put Fluffy the Cerberus to sleep with a flute, how she'd incinerated a Devil's Snare, and then rode a broom to grab a flying key. Then, Ronald had to lead them through a giant chessboard, followed by a mercifully-sleeping Troll, and finally a room with a Potions puzzle that only Hermione had been able to solve.

Harry listened intently, noting the convenient setup of the traps. How they were all circumvented by a bunch of first years with only a bit of difficulty. It would've been a cakewalk for a seventh year, let alone Quirrell.

Willow followed this up by telling him she'd found Quirrell in final room with the Mirror of Erised.

Of course. That had been why Dumbledore refused to destroy the Stone and insisted on keeping it in the school.

"I assume he tried the Killing Curse on you and it backfired again?" Harry asked, dryly.

"Er, no, actually," Willow's voice lowered to a squeak. "It wasn't just Quirrell in there. Dumbledore had planted a bunch of Aurors in the mirror room, hidden by Invisibility Cloaks."

Harry blinked. "Excuse me. What?"

What had been the point of setting Willow up, then?

"They already had Quirrell immobilized when I got there," she continued. "But I didn't notice. I may have, er, gone a bit overboard with the fire."

Realization dawned on Harry's face. "You didn't?"

Willow winced, her face falling back into a frown. He thought she'd start crying. "I did. I burned him alive while he couldn't fight back."

Harry's mouth fell open. He forced it close with sheer willpower. This was the Light Side Twin! Harry could see himself doing something like that, but-

"At least it's over now," Harry said.

"Actually, it's not," came a voice from behind Harry. He whirled on it, wand out, but it was just Dumbledore.

One of these days he'd actually aim it as someone he could take on.

"What do you mean, Albus?" Harry questioned.

"Quirrell was only acting as a host for Voldemort," Dumbledore explained. "I had planned to trap him in such a way that Voldemort would not die. Unfortunately, well, you did what you thought you had to, Willow. I am to blame for keeping you in the dark."

"Albus," Harry hissed. "What was the point of the involved staging if you were just going to have an Auror hit squad deal with Quirrell-mort?"

"That was admittedly a last-minute change to the plan," Dumbledore said. "You were right, Harry. You and Willow are but children. I should not have burdened your sister with the responsibility of facing Lord Voldemort, at least not until she's been properly trained."

Oh, smooth, Dumbledore. Make it look like it was Harry's fault. Harry sighed. He'd thought he'd at least gotten out of going to the Dursleys.

"Are you going to be discharged today?" Harry asked.

Willow shook her head. "Madam Pomfrey says I need to be monitored for three days. I've been drifting in and out of sleep. Burning Quirrell wasn't pleasant."

"What of the Stone, Albus?" Harry asked.

"Flamel tells me it's been destroyed."

Harry nodded, not believing a word of that, and bade them both goodbye, returning to the Great Hall for lunch. Why couldn't things ever be simple?

The Great Hall was alive with rumor-induced chaos. The story of Willow Potter and a handful of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs defeating Quirrell grew wilder with each retelling. Harry noted that there was no mention of the Auror Hit Squad, or how Quirrell had already been subdued when Willow struck. He kept those things to himself. No reason to let people know Willow had basically murdered a man. They'd taken to calling her the "Flame Princess of Gryffindor" after someone (Donald, Harry presumed) let it slip that Willow destroyed a Devil's Snare by her lonesome.

He was savoring a slice of pizza when he found himself surrounded by a group of older Slytherins.

"Potter," one of them said by way of greeting. Harry recognized him. Derrick, a fourth year Beater on the Slytherin team. His partner in crime Bole was next to him. Harry also noticed the Slytherin Chasers present. Ah, he had a feeling he knew what this was about.

"Derrick, Bole, Montague, Pucey, Warrington," he greeted each in turn. Never hurt to be respectful to your seniors on the first meeting. "What can I do for you?"

"We hear your social circle is a bit more diverse than most," Bole hazarded, sweeping his gaze over Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Tracey.

Harry looked at his friends, but they seemed content with letting him do the talking.

His hunch had been right, then. "You've heard correctly."

"Have you talked with your Gryffindor friends recently?" Derrick asked. "About the incident?"

Harry's lips curled up ever so slightly. "Why yes, yes, I have." He didn't mention which friend.

"Would you happen to know how your sister's doing, then?" Derrick seemed to be having trouble holding back a smirk.

"She's stable," Harry drawled. "But she won't be out of bed for a few more days."

"Understood," Bole said, a look of triumph on his face.

"But I should warn you," Harry spoke, which earned him a glare from the upper years. "You'd better make the most of it. If I know the Headmaster, he'll be dishing out a few more points before the year is done."

He glanced at the Hourglasses. Gryffindor was far behind all the others because of the Dragon Debacle, but he doubted it would stay that way for long. A bunch of Gryffindors and a Hufflepuff had just 'foiled' Quirrell-mort.

Derrick's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. He'd been in Hogwarts long enough to know of Dumbledore's bias, not that it had ever stopped Slytherin before. They'd won the House Cup seven years running for a reason.

* * *

As Harry, Theo, and Blaise walked down the corridor towards the Lakescape Room, Harry heard Theo sigh.

"Out with it, Harry," he said. "I know that look. What're you thinking?"

"Well, the final Quidditch Match is tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, and we'll probably win, although I do see why you told Derrick and Bole they should try to make a safety margin."

"You had another plot?" Blaise asked.

"Not really complex enough to be called a plot," Harry said. "But you know how everyone's going to be down at the Field? And Slytherin will probably try to stall to make sure we win the House Cup?"

Theo smirked. "What'd you have in mind, Harry?"

* * *

"I'm telling you, this is a dumb idea," Theo complained as they approached the Third Floor Corridor. "This is the most Gryffindor thing you've suggested this whole year."

"It _is_ worse than the time with the Dragon, yeah," Blaise chipped in.

"Relax," Harry assured them. "Willow already told me what the traps were. Half of them will be inert by now."

" _Alohomora,_ " Theo said, heaving a sigh. The lock flew open.

" _Avis!_ " Harry incanted. A flock of songbirds flew out of his wand and began to sing a lullaby.

Fluffy the three-headed dog quickly fell down, lulled asleep by the song. They descended the trap door, finding that no trace of the Devil's Snare remained. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. If she could kill a Mountain Troll with fire, she could definitely do this.

The next room with the flying keys made him roll his eyes. He cast _Immobulus_ to hold the keys in place while a summoned eagle grabbed the right one for him. He'd contemplated just blasting their way through the door, but figured Flitwick might've woven a spell into it to guard against that.

The three of them cast _Engorgio_ on the Eagle, making it swell to prodigious size. It flew them across the Chess Board room, bypassing the trap entirely.

"I could have won that easy," Blaise complained.

"You'd rather play Chess than ride a giant eagle?" Harry questioned.

Blaise didn't say another word. Harry shook his head. Imagine wanting to simply _walk_ to Mordor instead of taking an Eagle.

They came upon Harry's guaranteed prize in the next chamber. Whatever Quirrell had done to it, the Troll still remained asleep. The three of them cast _Reducio_ on it until they were all breathing heavily and the Troll was the size of a baby. It had taken them half an hour to do that with its magic resistance in play.

He floated the Troll into his Trunk's secret compartment that only opened with a password and had Preservation Charms. He'd been prepared to sic Nyx at it if it had woken up, but that contingency hadn't been needed. The fun thing about Preservation charms was that they didn't work at all like Muggle refrigerators. The compartment would preserve whatever was inside, including spell effects, though everything would expire some day.

Snape's chamber was laughably easy with three students who had top marks in Potions.

The final chamber still held the Mirror of Erised. Harry summoned a flock of Junglebirds (the feral chickens) to search the room for invisible watchers, but found none. Apparently, Dumbledore had sent the Aurors home.

"You'll want to stay away unless you're confident in your Occlumency," Harry warned, but neither of his friends flinched. He'd expected as much, since Tracey had complained about the prevalence of Occlumens in Slytherin.

He approached the Mirror. The image of him and his friends being successful was still there, but Harry focused his mind. There was something more immediate he wanted at the moment. The image of himself vanished entirely, replaced by an old wizard more ancient than even Dumbledore holding a bright, red jewel - the Philosopher's Stone.

So, Dumbledore _had_ removed it, he thought bitterly. Flamel seemed to have lied, however, if Harry presumed correctly that the old wizard had taken the jewel back rather than destroying it.

"Stone's not here," he declared. "Flamel probably has it."

"So we came here for nothing?" Theo whined.

"Not necessarily. Now I have a Mountain Troll that can get in and out of Hogwarts," Harry reminded him. "Dunno what I'll use it for, but I'm sure I'll think of something."

He and his friends grinned.

* * *

The Farewell Banquet was made even more delicious by the dampened spirits of the Gryffindors. Harry allowed himself to savor it for however long it lasted. He was fairly certain Dumbledore would pull points out of his arse at the last minute. He'd gotten points for beating a Troll on Halloween, and he was a Slytherin.

The Slytherin Quidditch Team had taken his advice and expanded the margin even further by refusing to catch the Snitch. With Willow out of the picture, it hadn't been too difficult to disrupt the replacement Seeker until Slytherin had a massive lead. And _then_ Slytherin got the Snitch, or so Harry had been informed. Their House now led by seventy-four points against Ravenclaw in second place, with a two-hundred-something point lead against Gryffindor.

"I don't think I've ever heard of a first year influencing the House Cup standings this much," Daphne told him. Her usual icy demeanor had melted for the evening, replaced by barely-contained glee, the brooch Harry had given her for Christmas displayed proudly on her robe. It was as much a statement she could make that she was on his team now.

Most of Slytherin had done the same. Malfoy was practically a preening peacock.

He glanced at the staff table. Dumbledore was smiling in Snape's direction. It was a smile Harry recognized. He wore it whenever he knew something someone else didn't that would ruin their day.

Dumbledore stood, and made his usual madness-induced remarks. The Slytherins exchanged comments about how the Headmaster was an unlikable idiot. Harry hushed them, bidding goodbye to his euphoria in advance.

"Recent events must be taken into account. I have a few last minute points to award. To Mister Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of Chess Hogwarts has seen in years, I award fifty points."

There it was. Harry heaved a sigh and wished the food had appeared already. He needed to stab something with a fork.

"No, no, no," he heard Pansy say. He couldn't blame her. 

Malfoy's face had gone pale.

"Told you I should've played Chess," Blaise quipped, but there was little humor in it.

"To Miss Hermione Granger, for quick-witted thinking under durress, another fifty points."

They were only a hundred ahead now. Malfoy actually screamed.

"This can't be real," Daphne hissed.

"It's real alright," Harry said, sounding resigned.

"How come you look like you knew about this?" Tracey asked pointedly.

The table turned to him as Dumbledore awarded Neville fifty points for bravery.

"I've come to understand how Dumbledore operates," Harry said bitterly. "I suspect the next seven years are going to be an uphill battle for us."

Hufflepuff got their own fifty through Susan, but Harry knew they weren't going to win the cup any more than Slytherin was.

"And to Miss Willow Potter," Dumbledore said finally, "For outstanding courage and strength of character, I award sixty points."

It certainly sounded a lot better than 'for burning a Professor to cinders while he couldn't fight back.'

Harry heaved a sigh and clapped slowly for the sake of appearances. His friends followed suit. The Gryffindors went insane.

"Why do they even bother with four Houses?" Pansy asked.

"Because no one actually wants the whole population to be Gryffindors," Harry deadpanned. "Not even the Gryffindors."

"I believe," Dumbledore said, not even bothering to hide a smile, "that a change of decorations is in order."

One wand wave later, the green and silver decor vanished, replaced by Gryffindor colors. Harry thanked Merlin as food appeared shortly after and his fork found its way into a thick slab of meat.

* * *

Harry, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Tracey walked back to the Slytherin Common Room in relative silence. Perhaps if they'd been in any other house they would've filled the silence with complaints of how unfair the administration was being, but Slytherins almost never wore their hearts on their sleeves.

"So, Harry," Tracey started, breaking the silence. "What actually happened with your sister and the Third Floor Corridor?"

Harry gave her a glance. "This is sudden."

"I want to know the real reason Gryffindor just got two hundred and sixty points," Tracey said. "It's more than what your scheme with the Dragon lost them. Even Dumbledore can't be _that_ biased."

That was fair, he supposed, giving her a measuring look. "Only if you swear to ask me before you tell anyone else."

Tracey seemed to consider before finally agreeing to it. Theo and Blaise gave Harry loaded glances. He didn't need them to. He knew the risk, but Tracey's unique abilities would come in handy one day if he ever got her on his side.

"She stopped Quirrell from getting the Philosopher's Stone," Harry said evenly. "Remember? The thing we figured out he was after?"

Tracey nodded. "But like you said during study group, the Professors were watching him. So why did your sister and her friends - well, I guess some of our friends, too - why did _they_ stop him and not the Professors? I know Dumbledore was away, but still. Quirrell was just Muggle Studies Professor before he applied for DADA. Nothing remarkable."

Harry blinked at her. Whoever taught Tracey how to gather and use information did it well. Then again, her father _did_ work for the Daily Prophet. "Go on."

"So you're saying that Willow somehow defeated a Professor," Tracey thought aloud. "A Professor who'd managed to get through all the other Professors' traps set up to protect the Philosopher's Stone. But that doesn't make sense. No offense, Harry, but Willow isn't even that great of a witch. I'm not saying I'm much better, but the only time she's ever beaten a wizard greater than her was-"

" _Ferula!_ " Harry practically yelled, and bandages immediately wrapped around Tracey's mouth. It earned him a glare and muffled protests as she brought her own wand out.

Harry held up a finger to his mouth to tell her to be quiet. "Not here," he said. "And seriously this time, I'm about to show you somewhere private, so don't tell anyone _anything_ you learn from me. At least for the rest of the night. If anything gets out, I'll know it was you and you'll spend the rest of your time in Hogwarts sleeping with one eye open."

He didn't mean it. He hadn't spent any time figuring out how to break into the girls' dorm, but he needed to be sure she understood the gravity of what she was asking to find out.

Tracey pointed to Daphne, who'd been quiet, and mumbled something that sounded like ,'What about her?' through the bandages.

Harry glanced at Daphne, who looked like she'd be offended if he even suggested she'd gossip, but this was too important to rely on his hunch. "Sorry, Daph, you, too. You'll have to promise on your house's honor or I'll need to ask you to leave."

She glanced at him, then at the Nyx-colored brooch he'd given her for Christmas, and nodded. "Fine. On the honor of House Greengrass, I won't reveal anything you tell me or Tracey tonight without your permission."

"Thank you."

"I'm guessing Theo and Blaise already know, then?" Daphne asked, looking at the two boys who'd been letting Harry talk without protest.

"Most of it," Harry admitted. "Sorry. It's just you and I didn't really kick it off this year like we did."

Daphne nodded. "Sorry, Harry. I had to be careful. Greengrass Heir and all."

Harry smiled thinly. "No, I understand. Frankly, I'm glad I don't have to keep this from you anymore."

He led the others to the Lakescape room, opened it by sliding his pinky along the water's surface, and brought them inside. He'd managed to sneak in a second sofa from an under-used study area on the fourth floor.

The five of them plopped down, and Harry cast _finite incantatem_ on the bandages he'd conjured around Tracey's mouth. She made a show of checking if she'd been injured, but grinned her sharp grin when Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're absolutely right, Tracey," Harry said. "My sister's only ever beaten an adult wizard once before in her life: the Dark Lord, Voldemort."

If he'd expected gasps, he was sorely disappointed. The Slytherins seemed to have caught on long before they'd entered the Lakescape Room. He loved having friends who could think at his level.

"What Blaise and Theo didn't know is that Voldemort was actually here," Harry said. That time, he'd gotten widened eyes, but still no gasps. "Willow said he's been possessing Quirrell since before term started. I suspect Quirrell encountered him during his long sabbatical."

"Blimey," Tracey said. "I suppose killing You-Know-Who _is_ worth two hundred odd points."

"The issue is that, just like before, it didn't take," Harry explained. "Dumbledore wouldn't tell me how exactly, but apparently Voldemort has some sort of protection from death. I suspect it's rather similar to Nyx's, now that she's properly my Familiar. He seemed to only possess a fraction of his strength, so revival, while possible-" he trailed off.

The others nodded, understanding. They'd all had some exposure to what the wizarding world referred to as 'Dark.' There was always a price.

"Any chance any of you would know better?" Harry asked.

The Slytherins shook their heads minutely. Theo spoke up. "My father's… acquaintances weren't even sure they believed his boasts of immortality."

"Anyway, Willow managed to burn him to death," Harry spoke matter-of-fact, "But he's still out there, which is why I have to live with my Muggle relatives for a month."

"Some kind of blood protection?" Tracey asked.

Harry blinked at her. "How'd you know?"

"How do you think?" Tracey shot back, winking at him with her blood-red eyes.

"Right," Harry said. "Wait, so would you be able to tell me if Dumbledore's feeding me a line or-"

"Blood magic hasn't been widely-practiced in centuries," Tracey said. "Or so mother says. She was a muggle who became a vampire, but the Change lets even her work Blood Magic, among other things. But yes, the logic checks out. You'd have to spend time with someone who shares your blood."

"Wait, wouldn't Willow count?" Harry brightened. The thought hadn't occurred to him before.

Tracey shook her head. "Not if you're both subjects of the spell, I don't think. I could double check with my mother, but it makes sense. Think of it this way: You and your sister share a bonded spell that lasts for a certain period of time. It degrades as time passes, like a lot of spells do, but going to your relatives would renew it. Basically, you can't charge it up yourselves because you're both using it up. Does that make sense?"

Harry frowned. It had been worth a shot.

"So, now that you know the news of the Dark Lord's end was greatly exaggerated," Daphne quipped, reminding Harry of the line he'd used on them at the start of the year, "What are you gonna do, Harry?"

Harry glanced at her. It hadn't even occurred to him that he didn't need to fight the Dark Lord, and he knew why. "Get rid of him, of course. He killed my parents, and while I admit I'd long abandoned attachment to them when I thought they'd died in a car crash, it feels wrong to work with their killer. That, and I have to pay him back. Living with the Dursleys is as much his fault as it is Dumbledore's."

"Wait, so you're going against Voldemort _and_ Dumbledore?" Tracey asked. "Bit of a tall order for a kid, don't you think?"

Harry laughed, it sounded cold even to him.

"Well, I don't have to go after Voldemort," Harry said. "He's trying to kill my sister. Maybe if she'd been a stupid git poisoned by Dumbledore's propaganda I'd consider going against her, but she's my only sister. If he comes for us, I want to be ready. Dumbledore is a manipulative old coot, but he has his uses and I have my priorities. He can wait until after the Dark Lord is truly vanquished."

"You're not afraid any of us will betray you to either of them?" Daphne asked.

Harry hesitated, not entirely sure how to phrase it. "No, not really. None of you like Dumbledore for starters, and something tells me the Death Eaters don't recruit children."

_And if we can't even trust you guys, we're screwed anyway. We can't beat Voldemort by ourselves._

_You're never by yourself,_ Nyx assured him. _Not anymore._

He sent back feelings of appreciation, but he didn't let it show on his face. The others hadn't responded yet.

Theo heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I guess I'm gonna have to work on my dueling skills."

Harry blinked at him. "What? But your dad-"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Theo answered, in a tone that brooked no argument. Whether it was because Theo was sure or because he wasn't and didn't want to crack, Harry didn't know.

He appreciated the gesture, all the same. "Thanks, mate."

"I suppose the Potter Vaults can pay for a dueling tutor?" Blaise quipped, but he was grinning.

"The Zabinis aren't willing to spend on their heir's eduction?" Harry shot back.

"Boys," Daphne muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Right?" Tracey said.

The girls didn't weigh in on Harry's situation. He couldn't blame them. He'd been surprised enough that Theo and Blaise were willing to back him up after only a year of being friends. Still, they reassured him they wouldn't say a word to anyone else, and Harry decided that was as good as he could have expected things to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: I know, I know. A lot of it is reminiscent of Sarcasm and Slytherin. I guess to an extent this is a fanfic of a fanfic. Sorry again, sunmoonandstars.  
> AN2: Probably no update tomorrow as I sort out the final chapter. This isn't the end of Year 1 yet. Depending on how it turns out, Chapter 21 might be the longest chapter in this fic.  
> AN3: I should probably make a proper Series for this, huh? I have a name in mind but if you have suggestions, throw them at me.
> 
> Edit: I made an edit to Tracey's explanation of what she thought the blood protection was to make it clearer.


	21. Goodbye For Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out I lied. This isn't the longest chapter in the fic at all.

Space stretched out before Harry's eyes. Not dark with the occasional star like the night sky. No, what stretched out before Harry was a swirl of colors from black, to purple, to green, to blue, though the dominant color seemed to be magenta. They moved about as if blown by unseen wind, and yet Harry knew that was impossible. This was supposed to be space, wasn't it? Why would there be wind?

He looked down, finding himself in his Hogwarts robes. His hand flicked his wand out of its holster, but found it empty. A surge of panic filled him. What was he supposed to do without his wand?

 _Nyx!_ he called out.

But there was no answer. Harry's breathing hitched. He hadn't felt this helpless - this vulnerable - since he'd found out he was a wizard.

A boom, loud and yet distant, like a large drum beaten somewhere Harry couldn't see, snapped his attention forward. He found a familiar face standing amid the barren landscape.

"Mister Carter?" Harry asked, following his instinct to step forward.

The old bookstore owner looked at him with that thin smile he always had when Harry would sneak off to visit his store.

Another boom, and suddenly he was much closer to the old man - within three paces, in fact. Harry had grown somewhat in the past year, but he still only reached Carter's abdomen.

Carter's mouth opened, but Harry couldn't make out what he said. Something that sounded like television static muffled the words. "Gate," Harry thought Carter said at the end.

Another boom.

"Mister Carter, where are we? I can't understand-"

"Key," Carter seemed to say through the static.

Another boom, and Harry felt the key around his neck getting hotter, like it had during December.

Right. The Key. He had to give it back.

Harry reached into his robes, pulled out the key. His eyes widened as the thing seemed to have grown. It was even more ornate than the last time he'd inspected it. No, it had definitely grown. It used to fit in his palm.

Carter's hand opened, his thin smile remaining fixed to his face. It felt unnatural, and yet this was Mister Carter. He'd been Harry's only friend during his time with the Dursleys.

Harry nodded, removed the key from around his neck, and placed it in the old, wrinkled fingers.

Another boom. Carter nodded back, said something again, although all Harry could make out through the static was "the Gate."

"Mister Carter?" Harry inquired. What the hell was going on?

Another boom. Harry suddenly wished he'd been counting for some reason. The Key turned upright in Mister Carter's hands, pointed towards Harry.

He opened his mouth again. "… are One," Harry thought he heard this time.

"Mister Carter? What are you-"

One more boom, and Mister Carter's hand lunged forward like a snake. Harry felt a burning sensation in his forehead and screamed. He pushed Mister Carter away, and the old man relented, still wearing the same expression he always did.

Harry realized a moment later that the Key was missing from Carter's hand, and that the sensation in his head had yet to cease. Harry reached up, clasping the Key, and Harry saw it now: His scar had never been the image of a person. It had always been a Keyhole.

* * *

Harry woke drenched in sweat, like he'd run a marathon in the peak of summer. To be fair, he supposed it _was_ summer now, but Hogwarts kept the heat out and it was early morning. He thought.

 _Nyx?_ he called out.

_What is it, Harry?_

He breathed a sigh of relief. The aloneness he felt in the dream, no matter how brief, had driven him to anxiety.

 _What time is it?_ he asked.

_Three in the morning. Were you having a nightmare?_

Harry didn't answer, because he'd noticed something for the first time since waking up.

The Silver Key, still hanging from his neck by a piece of string, was floating in front of him, spinning in place as if operated by invisible clockwork. It had changed, just like in the dream: larger and with a more elaborate design.

A memory of Carter plunging it into his scar flashed in his head. Harry actually flinched. What was that?

Harry took one look at the key, weighed how upset Blaise and Theo would be with him for waking them up, how difficult it would be to break the Wards on their beds, and decided he could wait for them.

He didn't sleep a wink. At six in the morning, Theo finally got up, saw the floating Key, and screamed, making Harry feel relieved that he wasn't going mad.

Blaise had gotten up (grumpily) a moment later, after Harry and Theo teamed up to break his Silencing Ward. He'd threatened to hex them until he saw the Key, too, and promptly shut up.

"What the _hell_ did you do this time, Harry?" Theo asked. "You can come clean now, mate. It's just a _Wingardium Leviosa,_ right?"

Harry scoffed. "If it was me doing this, then I could probably control-"

His mouth stopped working as the Key stopped spinning. He'd just been thinking of it stopping. Blinking, Harry willed it to move up, and it did. Down, and it did. Do a three-sixty-degree flip through the air, and it did.

"I can't believe you two woke me up for this," Blaise grumbled.

"Oh, relax. We're going home today," Theo told him. "But seriously, Harry, can't you just cast a _Finite_ on it or something?"

Harry kicked himself internally. The dream and the sudden floating had thrown him off too much. " _Finite Incantatem._ "

The Key refused to fall. Harry blinked, tried the spell again. Then Theo did, then finally Blaise.

None of them met any success.

"Try Detection Charms, like we use on Christmas Presents," Theo suggested, suddenly interested.

Harry did, and the spell revealed nothing.

"This is bizarre," Blaise finally admitted.

"Take it to Snape?" Theo offered.

Harry remembered Snape's little sermon about how Slytherin was the house of cunning, ambition, and self-sufficiency. He shook his head. He wasn't going to waste his standing for a bloody Floating Key.

He willed the Key to go back down and stick to his chest, to at least pretend it wasn't being a horror movie prop. Maybe he'd have Flitwick have a look at it later, just in case.

He groaned, unshrunk his Trunk, opened it to the Potions compartment, took out one of his two Wiggenwelds he stashed for emergencies, and quaffed it. It wasn't coffee or a proper energy drink, but it would help him get through the day without looking like he hadn't slept a peep.

* * *

Professor Flitwick frowned at the ornate key sitting on his desk. Harry had approached him right after breakfast to ask if he could detect anything strange on the object.

"Nothing, Mister Potter," Professor Flitwitck spoke in his usual squeaky voice. "As far as I can tell, there's no enchantment on this key. What was it that had you so bothered?"

"It's just that sometimes I feel like it warms up on its own," Harry lied. No need to ruin Flitwick's opinion on him by making him think Harry had gone mad.

"It could just be conduction," Flitwick offered. "Metal tends to absorb heat better than most other materials. At worst, it could be accidental magic keeping it warm when you feel cold. That wouldn't leave any kind of trace either."

"I see. Thank you, Professor," Harry said, picking the Key back up. He'd gotten better at having it not randomly float through the air, but he could still feel it in his mind, almost as if it were an extra limb detached from his body. It was an alien feeling that brought him back to the fever dream he'd had.

He hadn't told Theo and Blaise much about it, particularly not the bit where Mister Carter had stuck the Key into his forehead. Strange nightmares were supposed to be the Girl Who Lived's thing, not his.

"Mister Potter, what did you say this was a key for again?"

"I don't actually know, Professor," Harry admitted. "It's a keepsake from an old friend. Why do you ask?"

Flitwick smiled. "No reason, Mister Potter. It just reminds me of an enchantment I made some time during start of term."

Harry put an eager look on his face, the one he faked when he was sitting through a class he'd already studied the contents of. "You do enchantments on metal, Professor?"

Flitwick nodded. "I run the metalworking club with Madam Hooch. We make the Golden Snitches and maintain the Bludgers the school uses, among other things."

His interest became less faked. "Oh really? Could I join this club? I've been badgering Professor Snape for extracurricular activities since the start of the year."

A laugh came from Flitwick, though it seemed to be in good nature. "I'm afraid not, Mister Potter. Our club is only for students in their third year and higher. Weaving permanent enchantments into metal is simply too taxing, not to mention complicated, for younger wizards and witches."

Harry suppressed a frown. "Well, I'll keep it in mind for when I'm old enough, Professor. Sounds bloody fascinating."

"We'd love to have you, Mister Potter. Your Charms work is among the best in your year."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Now, you should run along. The train leaves shortly, and you wouldn't want to spend your last morning in my office."

Harry offered Flitwick a winning smile and bade him goodbye. The Key flashed warmth against his skin as he left Flitwick's office, almost as if taunting him.

 _I'll know your secrets yet,_ Harry thought. _Just you wait._

* * *

The study group gathered for the final time that year in the largest compartment Harry and Theo could find. They'd somehow managed to comfortably sit Harry, Theo, Blaise, Tracey, Daphne, Hermione, Neville, and Justin. All the guys were seated on one booth seat except for Blaise, who'd said he should sit on the other to 'even things out.' Harry had resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Pansy and Lisa had gone off to join their other social circles, which was fair, though the less time Pansy spent with Malfoy, the better, in Harry's opinion. Then again, he might be able to use her against Draco if he played his cards right.

He'd decided not to bring up the topic of the Key, since he didn't want their last hang-out before the summer to be about him. Instead, Theo, Blaise, Neville, Tracey and Daphne were engaged in a game of exploding snap while the people who couldn't do magic at home practiced their spells one final time.

"You could always come over to one of our houses," Blaise had told Hermione and Justin.

"Your mother wouldn't mind?" Hermione asked.

"She's- well, she usually leaves me to my own devices, so as long as we don't blow anything up," he trailed off.

"That sounds brilliant," Hermione said. "But my house isn't connected by Floo. Actually, neither is yours, right? Don't you live in Italy?"

"Different ministry, different Floo Network, it's true. Though you could always stay over for a few days."

Daphne looked up from their game, elbowed Blaise hard enough to make him groan, then went back to beating Theo and Neville.

"Er, I don't think my parents would be okay with me staying at a guy's house," Hermione said.

"Your loss. What about you, Daph? Tracey?"

"It's a bit last minute," Daphne said. "Maybe later in the summer. The Floo thing is a problem, though. Shame they can't make non-temporary exceptions for Muggle households."

"My mom and dad would be cool with it," Tracey chimed in. "I hope you don't mind a lack of sunlight, though."

She didn't have to say why. Harry had felt like an idiot for taking so long to figure it out.

"I'll consider it. Thank you both. What about you, Justin?"

"I reckon I'll be busy over the summer," the boy answered. "Family business."

"Which is?" Tracey asked.

"Business run by my family," Justin quipped.

"Bloody Occlumens. It's not fair a Muggle-born has Occlumency training. Why would you even know about it, let alone be able to learn it?"

Justin just flashed her a smile and Tracey shook her head. Harry had wondered about that, too. He actually knew more about his Slytherin friends than he did Justin. The only ones whose backgrounds were more mysterious were Daphne and Blaise, and Harry at least knew about Blaise's mother's reputation (not that he'd ever say that to Blaise's face).

"What about you, Harry?" Daphne asked.

Harry shrugged. "I'm just going to be in my room, making no noise and pretending I don't exist for a month, I suppose."

"It's not fair," Theo said.

"I'd rather me than my sister," Harry said. "At least I've learned how to manage the Dursleys. She'd either give in to them completely or set the house on fire. I'm not entirely sure which is worse."

"Could always trap them in an illusion," Tracey offered. "Have them eating out of the palm of your hand."

Harry shook his head. "Nyx _could,_ but then the Ministry would be breathing down my neck faster than I could say 'Hogwarts.' I'd rather not cross the DMLE when I live at their Head's manor."

"Could crash at Nott Manor if things get bad," Theo said. "Father would understand. Just give me a heads-up so the wards don't accidentally murder you."

"Not sure if Amelia would appreciate my staying with you," Harry said. "But I appreciate it."

"How about my place?" Neville said. "Gran wouldn't mind, and she and Madam Bones're both on the Wizengamot. We could meet up and do some wand practice."

"All of us?" Harry asked. The hidden meaning was obvious, even for a Gryffindor.

"I mean, my Gran and I are rightly furious at er, some people," Neville said, looking down at his shoes. "But she'd never hurt kids who had nothing to do with it."

"I'll keep that in mind, Neville. Thank you."

"I'd offer, Harry, but people might get the wrong idea," Daphne said.

"Of course. Thanks anyway."

Morning turned to noon and the Prefects made their rounds, telling students to change out of their school robes. Harry actually snarled at the rags he had to put on in the Dursley's presence, and decided against it, putting on one of the checkered vest and jeans Justin had gotten him for Christmas.

"Blimey, mate," Justin spoke. "I thought you were kidding when you said rags. You sure you're gonna be fine?"

"It's just a month," Harry said, trying to assure himself as much as Justin. "If things get bad, well," he trailed off. He'd almost forgotten he hadn't told everyone in the compartment he had a sleeping troll trapped in his trunk. "Say, who wants to meet my uncle?"

Theo, Justin, and Blaise smirked. Daphne made a face like the very thought was beneath her, and the rest just shook their heads.

Harry walked off the train and through the illusory barrier Justin had to guide him through, wearing the smart clothes from Justin. He refused to cower before the Dursleys any longer. If things got really bad, he could threaten to stab their eyes out with the Key. Flitwick hadn't found anything on it, so Harry doubted the Ministry Aurors would, either.

Theo, Blaise and Justin came with to see him off.

Vernon Dursley's face contorted with distaste as soon as he saw Harry, and even more when he spotted Harry's friends. Theo and Blaise in their wizarding wear and Justin in clothes not even Dudley would ever be given.

"Come along, boy," Vernon said, pretending not to notice Harry's new wardrobe.

"One moment," Harry said coolly. "I wanted to see my friend Justin off."

Justin had told him to wait until his ride showed up before Harry left with the bipedal walrus. Harry made full-blown introductions of each of his friends, followed by telling them Vernon worked at Grunnings'.

"Ah, justin time," Justin said. Harry would've hit him with a Stinging Hex for that pun if they weren't already in Muggle Britain.

Harry managed to keep his face impassive as an honest-to-goodness black limousine pulled up next to them. Justin hadn't warned him, but Vernon needed to think he'd known all along.

A woman in a long, black dress that left almost everything to the imagination appeared out of the back seat. She stode over to Justin with practiced elegance and bowed. "Master Justin, it's good to see you."

"Hello, Mercy," Justin spoke casually. "These are my friends."

The woman offered them each a small nod before turning back to Justin. "We must be on the way, Master Justin."

"Oh, very well," Justin said. "I'll see you some time, Harry, Theo, Blaise. And Harry, maybe keep an eye on business news this summer. Might find something interesting."

As they watched Justin disappear into the limo, Theo gave Harry a look that asked 'What was that about?'

Harry honestly had no clue. He left with Vernon in silence, saying a final goodbye to the friends who'd offered to help him fight the Dark Lord. They'd traveled a good five minutes before Vernon broke the silence.

"Boy, that friend of yours with the limo," Vernon began. "What did you say his name was again?"

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," Harry said. "Why? Does that ring a bell?"

Vernon bit his lip, but didn't say anything more, which was in itself an answer.

Harry thought of his friends, of his sister, and of his year at Hogwarts. He knew in the greater scheme of things, compared to the looming threat of Voldemort, the Dursleys seemed trivial, but he thought he'd rather go out and fight the Dark Lord than deal with his bloody relatives for a whole month.

Still, he had a role to fulfill to keep his sister safe, so Harry thought of everything that had happened so far and bade them goodbye for now.

* * *

_Willow_

She watched her brother pass through the portal, with Nott, Zabini, and Justin behind him. They'd said their brief goodbyes, but when she'd asked if she could meet her uncle and aunt, Harry had refused.

Willow would've insisted if not for the dangerous glint in his eyes whenever he talked about the Dursleys. She wondered what kind of treatment could have warranted such hatred.

Her brother was Dark. She'd realized it not when he'd been Sorted, but shortly after. There was something about him that didn't mesh with what she thought an eleven-year-old should be. He could be kind, even thoughtful, and yet she'd never shaken the feeling he'd knowingly gotten her and her friends (and his friends, too) caught during the ordeal with Norbert.

Something lurked beneath the smiling face of a little boy. She'd seen it, sometimes: How he and his friends seemed to communicate without talking, how Harry seemed like the world's youngest chessmaster with his cunning plots, how easily he'd fended off Ron, Seamus, and Dean at the same time.

She would've bet if Harry had been the Boy Who Lived, he would've managed to get through the chambers guarding the Stone in record time. He probably would've dealt with Quirrell, Aurors or no, despite the gap in their power and experience.

Maybe Ron was right and Harry _was_ a budding Dark Lord, and yet, there he went to live with the Dursleys so she wouldn't have to - to renew the protection their mother's love had granted.

Amelia had warned her: The world was not black and white, but multiple shades of gray. Willow hadn't grasped the meaning at first, because in what world was Voldemort not dark and Dumbledore not light?

 _In what world is a Potter not of the light?_ she wondered.

"Will!" Susan's voice called, breaking Willow from her reverie.

She blinked. "Sorry, Sue. I spaced out for a bit."

Susan just smiled. "It's alright. We should probably get going. Aunt Amelia's waiting."

Willow returned the smile. "You're right. Let's go."

As they walked to the Floo Connection, she took one last glance back at the muggle exit of Platform Nine and Three Quarters, imagining her brother on the other side.

She'd see him again soon, but it was goodbye for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN1: You thought the cosmic horror tag was a joke, didn't you?  
> AN2: I have surprisingly little to remark about on this last chapter.  
> AN3: Oh, yeah. Don't think too much about the number of beats. I'm probably just messing with you.
> 
> Well, my friends, this has been a journey. Thank you for sharing it with me and all your messages of support. You may have noticed the fic now belongs to a Series so you can more easily track when Year 2 comes up though it shouldn't be too far in the future. Currently I'm about 1/4 done with Year 2 so it might be out as early as May. We'll see. 
> 
> I'm not allowed to post updates on progress here but if you want to, you can follow me on Twitter @RavenReverse. Someone already had my usual handle. Am mildly obsessed about this fic right now so I will probably talk about it a lot.


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